Differences
by AllyED
Summary: Kenny is left behind in SP, as his childhood friends move on with their lives. His own life is boring, he's tired of the routine and he'd give anything to change it. The changes start showing up as soon as a certain mercenary walks his path.
1. About life

Being on your own was not the perfect life teenagers always wanted. Beeing an 18 years old boy and on your own could actually be very hard. Kenny had learned it the hard way, and not by simply hearing someone talk about it or seeing it on TV. After his father died, it had been (he hated to admit) easier for the rest of he family to live. The rest of the family consisted from him and his mother, the others being dead. A few months later, she died too, leaving Kenny the house and a bunch of bitter memories. Luckly, after he finished highschool, he found a job as a waiter in a cafeteria. The money was far from enough, but at least he could buy himself things that helped him survive untill the next month.

Now,it was 10 p.m. and he was heading,more like crawling, to the cottage he called home. If it had a bed where he could crash, it was okay with him. The wind was blowing, making the cold, humid weather even more horible than it already was. He could barely feel his frozen fingers,but he was too tired to care. Under the soft locks of blonde hair,his greenish eyes got darker everytime he blinked. So tired. Still,he took out of his pocket a lighter and lit the smoke that was already hanging from his lips. It never calmed him, it was more like a habit he couldn't get rid of. Not that he wanted.

His irregular steps made little noise on the empty street. As the clouds gathered on the sky,covering the moon, it got harder for the street-lamps to light his way. It was only 200 more meters and he was home. After a soft sigh, he took the remaining of the cigarette and threw it away, ready to take another one, when a rustle in the bushes nearby made him stop. From his experience, he knew that curiousity was a bad thing and he always got killed when he got curious. But he couldn't help it. Maybe,if his boss wasn't such an asshole, he would've not care if he got killed,he came back every time. But missing even a day of work meant no job and no job meant no food. And hunger was the only thing he truly hated with his very being, so he was not going to die. So he took his hands out of his pockets and took a few steps back.

The noise was heared again and his body stiffened. He was ready to defend himself. He knew it because he could hear his heart pumping faster and faster. Suddenly,someone rolled from the bush and, faster than Kenny thought it was humanly possible, grabbed him by the orange coat and pinned him to the street-lamp.

"W'o are you? W'o sent you? Answer to me !" he asked in a low,but harsh voice, shaking Kenny a bit.

Astonished,Kenny looked at his attacker and recognized him: Christopher DeL..something, better known as 'Ze Mole'. Flashes or their first encounter ran fast through his mind, then were gone. The fire in his black eyes amazed him,the rage,the hatred and yet the intelligence they radiated. The wind blew,ruffling the dark-brown locks of the French, reminding Kenny that the Earth was still spinning and answered.

"Right now,my body is sending me home where I want to eat,take a shower and you mind letting me down now? You stopped my circulation."

Christophe losened the grip,but didn't let him go,watching the blonde tried to smile,in order to make the mercenary trust him or something,but he only managed a was far too tired for more 'mr-nice-guy'.

"Look asshole,you can't even imagine how tired I am ,if you want to kill me cuz I disturbed you from whatever fucking shit you were doing,go ahead,do it, but, if I lose my job, I will come back,hunt you down and kill you in the most painful way. Believe me,I have a lot more experience than anyone on this goddamned planet! Now fuck off!"

The mole blinked once. And then he blinked again. It was his turn to be amazed. The before-almost dead eyes were now shining with a whirlwind of one got the nerve to speak to him like that and get away with it. The most amazing thing in the whole situation was that it amused him and he never was never amused. This was really bizarre. Slowly,he let the blonde go and stepped back.

"Pardonne-moi zen. I am ze Mole." he said after clearing his throat. Almost imediatelly,he took a cigarette,lit it and put it in his mouth. It was when Kenny noticed the brunette's cut lip and the blood mixed with dirt smell coming from him.

",are you okay? You're bleeding."

"No need zo worry.I will be alright." Bending to pick his shovel,he fell to his knees and moaned in pain. Knowing that the Mole was indestructible,Kenny got worried and helped him get up.

"C'mon,I'll get you to my house.I live nearby."

Getting no answer,he looked at him and saw that he had his eyes closed. Helping himself with the shovel,Kenny somehow managed to carry the boy to his bed,get his boots off,his coat,clean his face and hands and crash next to him,unconscious.

The next morning,he woke up alone.

Wondering if it had all been a dream, Kenny got up and rubbed his clock on the nightstand showed 6:23 a.m and he sighed in had 2 more hours before he had to go to work. He fell back into the mattres and took a deep breath. Then,it hit him: a faint smell of dirt mixed with blood was lingering on the covers. It had not been a dream,the Mole had been here.

Suddenly,a loud thump came from the bathroom and Kenny ran to it. The image in his face made his heart sink: pale and shirtless,Christophe sat in the empty bath tub,trying to stitch a long,deep wound stretching from his shoulder blade to his stomach. Without noticing the blonde,the mercenary went on with his work,clenching his teeth everytime the niddle broke the hurried next to him.

"You have to lay down and relax.I'll finish this for you."

Doing as told,Christophe looked at Kenny with a strange look that he couldn't label,it was some kind of mix between hostility and hate and confusion. Focusing his attention to the cleaned and disinfected wound,the blonde continued stitching.

"Do you want to talk about this? How did you manage to do it?"

The silence that followed lasted until Kenny applied the last bandage and it didn't stopped after that either.

"You are not too much of a talker,are you?" asked the blonde."If you're lucky and it doesn't get infected,it will be healed in a few weeks and you'll have a new scar.C'mon,I'll help you to the kitchen and we'll see if there's anything to eat."

The Mole took another cigarette,lit it and got up,following the blonde. He didn't trust the orange wearing teen,but also,he didn't understand why was he so good with him. It was curiousity that didn't let him leave when he got up;and the bad wound that hurt like this,he went through worse and didn't die. He shook his head to make these thoughts go. He had more important things to think about now,like finding something to eat. He had to make sure that the blonde didn't poison his whatever-was-it that made his meal,so he watched him carefully as he poured some cereals in two bowls and then poured the milk. When he was handed the bowl,he smelled the contents. He could tell if the food was poisoned by smell,he knew more than one hundred different types of poison and toxic substances, but this was clear and the noise made by his stomach encouraged him to eat, silently munching on the cereals,he thought about how bad his last mission went. Usually, he didn't make mistakes like those.

*_FLASHBACK_*

_As he approached the guard,his heart beat remained steady and remained steady after he cut his neck and blood spilled on the floor. He dragged the guard from the way and continued his path. Man after man,the guards fell like they were puppets."Worthless'' whispered the mercenary. They never knew anything about their superiors, they were doing their jobs without question,hungry for money. He wasn't like this,he accepted only what he wanted to and took exactly how much money he wanted. He was independent and didn't care about anything or anyone,except his life. He wanted to live with a passion hard to explain. He couldn't explain it to himself:why would a person want to live if he had nothing to live for?A mistery he didn't want to again,he was curious._

_One more guard and he was done. But this one was had turned and looked at him just before he cut his neck. The Mole saw something different in his eyes, as if he was happy that he got killed. He usually saw fear,sorrow or anger,and it didn't impress him,he had far too much experience and he couldn't afford any kind of mistake. He had to reach his goal:kill everything that moves,set the bomb and get away fast. The reason:this would end an old fight between two big gangsta bosses. Not a big deal._

_*END FLASHBACK* _

Christophe didn't see the guard approaching with a sharp mini axe,because he was setting the bomb. The hit left him puzzled,he heard the blood dropping on the floor and after that, he felt the pain. He shot the attacker in the head and left. The blurry vision didn't help him at all, but he made it to the tunnel he had dug with his allways present shovel and, on the other side,his Harley was waiting for him. The Mole got on it and minutes later,the building exploded,but he was too far away to see it. He just heard it. Not paying attention to the road,he got to South Park by accident and he was looking for a place to sleep when Kenny heared him. And that was all :he needed to avoid making mistakes like that. Setting this as a reminder,he finally looked around:the kitchen was old,but clean and it didn't have too much furniture. On a wall,a cardboard was half ripped and was written on it:_Viva la resistance._He raised an eyebrow and looked at the blonde. He looked back and followed the other's look. Seeing the sign,he smiled a little,then looked somewhere else.

"You must remember, it was the time when we worked together."

"W'at I zo no understand iz why you kept eet."Christophe corrected.

"Because it was one of the...no,it was..uh..I...I guess I like to keep things that remind me of past." Kenny explained unsecurely.

After a while,Christophe continued "Past iz something that needz to stay in ze past."

He left the bowl on the table and took another smoke."Thank you for your help. I zo not understand why you helped me,I owe you.I will leave now."and he made his way to the bedroom.

Kenny blinked,smiled and murmured for himself 'no problem'.Right after that,he went to work. When he came back at evening,The Mole was gone like he's never really been there.

Then ,his life came back to normal. Day after day ,everything was going on ,over and over. Waking up at seven in the morning, going to work, working all day long and coming back home where he could finally crash and sleep. Every day resembled the other almost perfectly, making the blonde feel like he was caught in a time circle and that he was doomed to live forever doing the same things thoughts made Kenny shiver. Heck, even two years seemed an eternity! The eternity itself would surely drive him insane. His plan was to work for two years, make enough money and move on, to college. He wanted to be someone and have a decent job and a decent life. He had sworn never to surrender his dreams and he was ready to fight down everything or everyone that had the guts to stay in his way!

These were his thoughts while he was washing the dishes at "Cheloo's". It was 9:30 p.m and his shift was almost over. It was Friday and the last customer had left two hours ago. Maybe he could finally get home earlier and get some more rest. He sighed satisfied and began to whistle, but stopped abruptly, with a frown stuck on his face as he heared the door-bell. This meant that someone entered the small cafeteria. He undid his apron, rinsed his hands and went to see who it was. Oddly, there was no one.'Maybe they went to the bathroom' Kenny thought.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" he asked loudly, his voice raising a small echo as it hit the walls. Getting no reply, he shrugged and got back to cleaning the dishes. If the kids were going to set pranks on him again ,he had a bat and he was not afraid to use it. He didn't like kids anyway. After the last plate was rinsed and put back to it's place ,the orange-wearing teen checked the bathroom to see if there was anyone. Then ,he switched off the lights, locked the door and left.

Thinking about random stuff, he walked home, ocasionally kicking pebbles and humming a song that he heared at the radio. It was a new hit and the guys at the radio felt the need to play it over one hundred times a day. He rolled his eyes and kept humming. He didn't like it, but it was stuck in his mind and it amused him.

"It's actually interesting how all the things you like almost run away from you and the ones you don't like suffocate you" he stated loudly."It's the same with people. Just when you need them ,they are nowhere to be found. Assholes." Just then, a deep voice came from nearby, scaring the shit out of him:

"Eez eet normal speaking to yourself?"

After Kenny's heart beat came back to normal, his brain also re-started functioning and he recognized the unmistakeable French accent of the Mole. He regained his composture and tried to sound as calm as possible. It was the French's number one ability: to scare him.

"And is it normal stalking people?".Pause."Cristophe?" his attempt to sound pissed failed miserably, but at least he tried. And he was proud of it .The Mole appeared from his left, where he was hidden. For what reason? Unknown to Kenny.

"I will castrate you if you call me by my name one more time. It eez worse than a fucking pet name."He lit a cigarette and continued calmly: "I needz a place to stay for the night."

The blonde looked at the French and cracked up laughing. He couldn't belive his ears.

"I can't belive you! You...you threaten me that you will cut the most precious part of my body then you ask for housing? Unbelievable!" As the blonde laughed incontrolably, the mercenary smoked, inhaling deeply. Then, with a calm voice, he said to the amused teen:

"I could've killed you and uze ze house everytime I needed. I chose to let you live. Eet eez your choice."

"I can call the police ,you know. I can bring you trouble. "

"You can try .I don't mind."He sounded so calm it scared Kenny. The blonde stopped, looked at the dirty guy standing next to him and shook his head. The French really knew how to make friends.

"Ok. "he said, then continued walking home, hands in his pockets. The other followed, smoking calmly and listening absently at Kenny's humming.

Kicking his shoes somewhere in a corner, Kenny imediatelly made his way to the kitchen and re-heated some left-overs, making sure he doubled the usual quantity. Then he took two beer cans from the fridge and placed them on the kitchen table. Entering his bedroom ,he noticed the mercenary's shovel by the bed, some rope thrown carelessly on the floor and the before-said mercenary by the window ,with a smoke hanging from his lips .The blonde rolled his eyes and said:

"Come and eat. I don't care if you're not hungry, you will eat."

The demanding tone of his voice made Christophe smirk. The blonde really didn't know anything about him,but he liked that he had the guts to act like that around him. Any other person had their head turned around already, but Kenny amused the Mole. And no one amused the Mole.

Sitting at the kitchen table, across from the blonde, Cristophe ate in a comfortable silence. And, incredibly, he liked what he ate, though he didn't know what it was. Something, with chicken and potatoes and... was that grass? He held it up with his fork and raised a brow questiongly. Kenny looked at him and grinned.

"Chill man, it's not poisoned. It's a recipe I invented and that, the thing you're holding, is the secret ingredient to the perfect taste. I can't tell you what is it, but I can assure you that it's eatable."

The rest of the meal went in silence, the only exception being the time when Kenny asked for a cigarette. It was not like this because they didn't have anything to talk about, but it was because none of them wanted to. Cristophe knew that, if he made friends, his enemies would eventually find out and try to use them to get to him. On the other hand, Kenny liked the silence. It was comfortable and not at all awkward.

While cleaning the kitchen, he said to the French guy smoking by the table:

"Tonight you can sleep in my bed. I have some movies I want to watch anyway. There is beer in the fridge and,oh, next time, bring a sleeping bag or a matters."

After inhaling deeply from his smoke, the Mole looked at Kenny and said, in a cool but slightly irritated way: "W'y do you like to be zo much like a woman? I can sleep on ze couch or right 'ere on the floor. It doezn't matter, az long az I sleep in a building."

Kenny looked back at him and shrugged "Do as you like, Cristophe."

"I told you not zo..." the Mole started, but stopped, as a frown darkened his features. He heared a noise from outside and it alerted him. Sometimes he was being paranoid, but now, someone was outside. Seeing the sudden change in the Mole's attitude, Kenny remained silent and smiled when he realised what had alerted the dark haired guy: it was a rustle from outside. Beeing very aware that the mercenary could get a grenade out of nowhere and blow up a half of his house, the blonde smiled again and went to open the door and he could feel the other tense up, ready to jump and kill if it was the case. Instead of evil ninja or crazy hunters, a gray cat entered the house. Kenny bent down and picked it and started to rub It's ears. The cat purred, relaxing in the blonde's arms. The only noise one could hear was the purr and a fly buzzing around. It was a total silence, a comfortable one.

"I'm going to sleep. " Kenny said yawning. " There is beer in the fridge. Serve yourself."

Walking to the bedroom with the cat in his hands, the blonde yawned again. He was so tired. Just before closing the door behind him, he remembered something and an evil grin split his face. Slowly ,he placed the sleeping cat on the bed and, on his tiptoes, he walked back to the kitchen. Sneaking a peek at the brunette, he saw him quietly sipping from a can of beer, exactly in the same place Kenny had left him. Grinning again, he walked behind him, not making a noise, with his heart beating in anticipation. But just before scaring the shit out of the French, he said:

"If you are willing zo scare me, you failed. Miserably." another sip." I heared you from ze moment you entered ze room."

If he would've turned and see Kenny 's face, maybe, just maybe, Christophe would've laughed. It was a funny sight in deed: his mouth was hanging and he was blinking fast. Kenny would've never admit it, but the Mole had scared him. Recovering, he murmured some kind of a 'show-off' and left to sleep, without seeing the smirk on the French's face. He really amused him.

5


	2. Getting to know you

A loud yawn echoed in the room as Kenny woke up. Blinking several times, stretching all of his numb joints, yawning as if ready to swallow someone. Not too elegant, but efficient. He climbed from the bed, scratching his head, leaving a sleeping cat on his pillow, then headed to the bathroom. A quick, warmish shower and he was completely fresh and ready for action. What action, he didn't know yet. But he was sure it was going to happen something. A food smell entered his nostrils and at the same moment, his stomach made a loud noise, which reminded him: he was starving. Hurriedly, he went to the kitchen and froze at the door: on the table, and on a plate, were eggs and bacon and next to it, a glass of orange juice and some toast. He just stared, his mouth hanging open.

Leaning on a wall, Christophe was smoking, a smirk playing on his features. He was amused, again. The blonde was incredible : he had amused the Mole in a few hours more than anything did in weeks. He would've never admit it, but he liked the feeling.

"Now zat face eez stupid." Christophe stated simply. Snapping from his daze, Kenny closed his mouth and cleaned some spit from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Ignoring the French's remark, he sat down and said blankly:

"You can cook."

"Zat eez not cooking. Eet'z breakfast, you don't have zo be a genius zo do eet. "

"Yeah, but why? I never thought you were the type to do something for someone else, but yourself."

At that, Christophe raised an eyebrow, then frowned slightly "Why, because I'm a mercenary? Zat is shallow from you."

Kenny felt guilty and decided to change the subject, but didn't know how. So he ate silently, sneaking peeks from time to time, only to see the Mole smoking calmly in the same place.

"I have buizness in town for a while, zo I will stay here. If you don't bother me, I won't bother you and you will not even know zat I am here." Christophe said. Looking at him, Kenny nodded and sat up to clean the plate. The Frenchie was surprised. He had expected Kenny to at least ask him about his mission and stuff. It was just how a French would say : plus que parfait.

Days passed. Kenny had his job and his own problems. Christophe was just the same. They saw each other rarely and they spoke to each other even more rarely. The blonde worked all day long and when he came home, he crashed in bed. A few hours later, he heard the French entering the apartment, no matter how deep he was sleeping .

One morning, Kenny was very happy. He had a feeling that a great day was ready for him. He ate breakfast humming a song, then he went flying to work. Seeing this, The Mole was confused. It was hard to understand the blonde. His confusion grew bigger when, at night, Kenny entered the apartment cursing and slamming the door. He was on the couch, sharpening his shovel and the blonde came to him and started to say:

"Can you believe him? I work like a slave for his fucking butt for the whole fucking month! Oh, the nerve in him!" he yelled pacing around the room. "I'm so going to… I don't know, do something!" he continued, waving his hands. Suddenly, he stopped and looked at the French: "Ask me what happened."

Christophe blinked and repeated the words like a parrot. Satisfied, Kenny said:" Today was payday. My boss, the supreme asshole, decided not to give me all the money. When I asked him about it, he fired me. Can you believe it?"

After a few moments of silence, Christophe asked: " 'ow exactly did you asked him?"

"I told him ' give me all the money, you asshole!'."

"Eez that all?"

"I…" the blonde hesitated "I grabbed him by the collar and shook him a little bit. Then told him that I'll fuck his mother if he doesn't…. oh shit."

"Oui, oh sheet. Now stop ze hysteria, my head hurts."

Resigned, Kenny sat on the couch and said:" I'm screwed. Where am I going to work now… fuck, fuck, fuck. And fuck."

A few moments of silence followed, the only sound available being the sound of stone against metal. It was kind of creepy, but it was somehow soothing, especially for Kenny's tired state. He was tired of struggling to survive. He wished it could be easier and he sighed. Heavy thoughts were forcing their way out of him. Thoughts about his past, his family, his friends. Kyle and Stan and even Cartman. He missed them, in a way that left him empty.

" What happened zo zem?" Christophe asked, making the blonde snap from his daze. The Mole smirked when he saw the face the other made. So he continued: "You were thinking out loud."

"Oh" was Kenny's intelligent remark."Nothing happened t them. Nothing bad, anyway. They moved on. Kyle and Stan are at college and Cartman is in a world tour. He is still momma's boy. But they are all happy. And I'm… well, I'm jobless."

"Damn, you complain a hella lot. You are in sheet, but you can always get in bigger sheet. Don't you get eet? Eet can always be worse."


	3. Change in plans

From the last time_:_

"_Damn, you complain a hella lot. You are in sheet, but you can always get in bigger sheet. Don't you get eet? Eet can always be worse."_

The statement was not out of the ordinary, but the tone Christophe used, the sparkling in his eyes made a bright smile appear on Kenny's face. He was right, it could _always _be worse. He could have been homeless, or even worse, he could have been _alone_. Maybe The Mole wasn't the most sociable person or the kindest, but he was here, sort of comforting the frustrated blonde, in his dirty, annoyed, French way.

A few more minutes of silence when Kenny snapped, almost scaring the Mole. Almost:

"I want to do your job."

If looks could kill, Christophe's would have already burned holes through the blonde. Still, he simulated like this was a misunderstanding:

"You zay what?"

"I want to do what you do, killing people and stuff." Just before he finished, the French's fist had connected strongly with his jaw. Almost instantly, blood started dripping from Kenny's broken lip, as confusion settled on his features: "What the fuck-!" Another hit, this time stronger, made him clench his teeth and fists. He wanted to complain, to protest, but Christophe started before him, in a low, dangerously calm voice:

"Zo not judge before you know all ze details. You zhink you know, but you don't."With that, he exited the room in a rush. Kenny stared at the spot where the French had stayed, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. He came back to reality only when his fingernails dug in his palms painfully. Then he felt the sour, metallic taste of blood in his mouth. The reaction he got from the Mole stunned him and, for a second, he forgot what he had asked him. Then, a pang of guilt installed in his chest.

Maybe it had been a personal reason that got him to react like that, maybe some ghosts from the past that haunted him, some issues settled on his brains. He shrugged and whipped the blood from his face and decided to leave the thing like this, but it kept bugging him. Somehow, it had intrigued him to no end and now, he was more eager to know… well, quite everything about what implied being a mercenary. His jaw, numb until now, was beginning to hurt. Damn, the guy knew how to hit!

Getting up from the couch, he rubbed his sore lip and headed to the bathroom, but just before he exited the room, his pupils dilated and he instinctively bent, his eyes closed shut. For a few seconds, the time stopped. He could only feel his heart racing madly, he could almost see the air he was breathing. He opened his eyes when he heard the French mumbling something about 'lucky bastards'. Then he barely saw the shovel lazily hanging on the other's shoulder and a cigarette held in the same manner, only between his fingers. His eyes went wide when he realized: the Mole had wanted to hit him. Again. But this time harder and more violently.

The next things he did were on autopilot, controlled by pure rage. He shot up, with a speed he didn't knew he had and launched a fist towards the Frenchie, who just had the nerve to want to kill him. The thought was maddening and, blinded in his anger, Kenny didn't realize that the Mole slowly shifted and that his punch was going nowhere. If he had thought clearly, he would have known that his chances of even touching Christophe were minimal, due to the French's training and experience, but his mind was a blur. After the fail of his first try, he observed that both of his hands were turned uncomfortably at his back and held firmly. Christophe's voice echoed in his head, bringing him back to reality:

"You are an ignorant fool. I could kill you now and 'ere, but I like your courage. I dare you zo try zo hit me again. You will never see ze day light again, understood?"

"You" Kenny's voice sounded hoarse and tired " you tried to kill me, again. You may be stronger than me, but if you kill me, I won't have mercy when I'll come back."

Tightening his grip a little more, the Mole made the blonde growl and said:

"I like eet. Your courage. You are not afraid of death." With that, he let him go and lighted a cigarette. Rubbing on his now sore forearms, Kenny grunted and had to resist the urge to punch the brunette. So he turned, but Christophe's voice stopped him:

"Tomorrow, I want you to meet someone. You are not busy, right?"

"No" he answered raising an eyebrow.

"Good" came the reply and the Mole was gone. Intrigued, but tired of questioning, Kenny went to bed. But at least, he had a feeling that his life was going to change sooner than he thought.

The next morning came with tons of grunts and growls. The sun was up in the sky and it's strong light came through the window, irritating his sleepy eyes. He crawled off the bed and let out another angry growl when he hit the nightstand with his foot, causing another bruise to appear.

After the morning routine, he went to the kitchen, yawning loudly. Leaning against the same wall every morning was the same smoking French. Even in his sleepy state, Kenny observed that the kitchen had unwillingly became their meeting place. He sat down, mumbling a 'good morning' and started munching on his breakfast which, he also noticed, was always there in the morning.

"I will be outside. Come when you finished." With that, Christophe went outside, letting a complete silence surround the blonde. Almost immediately, Kenny put his fork down and made a mental note: he _never_ wanted to be alone anymore.


	4. The nest

Taking his coat with a heavy sigh, Kenny went out and dropped his jaw when he saw a nice, beautiful amazing gray Hummer parked in front of his house. On it's hood was a certain French guy with a cigarette grasped between his index and middle finger. The face Kenny had ( again ) made Christophe smile, then frown slightly. It wasn't like him to smile so often. It was weakness and a sign that he was relaxed. His occupation didn't allow him to relax. It was suicide. Letting a half smoked cigarette drop from his hand, then stepping on it, the Mole entered the car and motioned to Kenny to hop in.

Just as he buckled up, a sudden pain emerged from his head to his whole body and he blacked out. Next to him, on the driver's seat, a smiling French dude was placing his pistol in the cowl, with a cigarette hanging from his lips. After inhaling deeply, he blew out a small cloud of smoke and stepped on the acceleration.

Kenny woke up later, with an incredibly dull pain in the back of his head. It took only a few seconds to remember what happened: the Hummer, the French and the pain. Groaning, he looked around and saw that he was in the car, which was parked in a big, dark hall. He stepped outside, wondering where the hell he was. He saw a few more cars through the semi-dark and noticed that his steps were echoing in the space, which meant it was big. He almost rolled his eyes at his intelligent remark and wondered why he was so distracted. Any being with little brain would be freaked out and desperately looking for answers or ways to get away from this creepy place, which could be crawling with zombies. He mentally cursed his imagination and the millions of horror movies that he saw and the other thoughts that now, sent chills up and down his spine. His pupils went insanely wide and every one of his muscles contracted when he felt a touch on his shoulder, but somehow, he managed not to scream like a damsel in distress. Instead, he turned around and saw the entertained face of Christophe.

"What the fuck frenchie! You keep hitting me! Why the fuck did you hit me anyway?" Kenny said in a half whispered, half angry tone.

"You didn't 'have zo see where we are" came the simple reply.

"You could have blind-folded me" the blonde snapped.

"Eet didn't occur." Again, the simple, logic answer made Kenny gape, then shut up. Still, his, he didn't know either what, maybe his dignity came up with a reply, not too smart, but anyway:

"You have a way of putting things." A few moments of silence followed and he continued. " So, you wanted me to meet someone. Whom?"

"Come, I'll show you."

Following the brunette through the hall, he noticed that it was, indeed, not big, but huge. He saw many cars of different types, two helicopters and many other cars. They continued their way down some stairs and they finally reached a double steel door. After the Mole entered a code, they entered another hall. This one was a lot smaller and full of computers and electric wires and big screens. Surprisingly, there were only five people walking around, looking busy, but at the same time, collected and calm. A brunette, purple wearing girl came to them and said:

"Hi Mole, you've finally decided to show up. Hey," she motioned to Kenny " you must be Kenny. The Mole here told us a lot about you. Well, not too much, but apparently, it is a lot to him."

Christophe rolled his eyes as the girl shook the blonde's hand. The grip, Kenny noticed, was firm and strong. Besides her small, somehow fragile frame, her brown eyes emanated warmth and intelligence. Suddenly, it hit him:

"You" Kenny started " remind me of someone I used to know when I was a kid. Is your name Wendy?"

She looked at him deeply in his eyes and a wave of sadness darkened her face just for a second. Quickly hiding it, she smiled widely and jumped in his arms, hugging him tightly, with genuine affection. Immediately after, the playfully hit him in the arm, with a wide grin lighting her whole face:

"Well, isn't this the legendary Kenny McCormick himself! Damn, this world is getting smaller or what! Can you believe we went to school together?" she hugged him again. "It's been so long… and you're still wearing orange! " She laughed, making Kenny laugh with her and the French smiled. He hadn't seen Wendy so happy since he had known her. And it's been quite a while since then. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was something about the blonde guy, something he couldn't figure out, some kind of … something. Annoyed with his unusual train of thoughts, the Mole frowned slightly and lighted another cigarette.

"Come Kenny, I have a lot of things to show you. Chris", she said to the French lazily leaning against a wall, " Tweak said that, when I see you, to send you to him .

With a nod, the Mole left.

"Finally, we got rid of him" Wendy sighed, then winked at Kenny. " We can talk freely now. Don't get me wrong, but sometimes, this guy has homicidal reflexes."

The blonde raised an eyebrow and muttered a 'tell me about it', but followed the girl which made her way to the center of the room. Inside his mind, thoughts where spinning, creating a tornado. Questions came to his lips, but were quickly replaced by other ones, before he could manage to speak loud. With a light frown, he made up his mind and asked:

"Wendy, I never thought you were going to end up like this." The comment made the girl stop and turn around. " I mean, you were a very smart girl. I always thought you were going to become a doctor or a lawyer… something that implied sitting in an office giving orders and such. At a great company. Not this. What are you exactly doing here?"

" Seriously, Kenny, you make it sound like I'm a whore. Believe me, I couldn't be happier with my life. But, work before everything. I promise I'll answer every one of your questions, but not now. Now, I want to show you everything you need to know and see where I can find a place for you." She turned around and continued walking. It was then when Kenny noticed her petite, well shaped body. She had nice curves, he had to admit.

"Blondie, if you are starring at me, better don't" she said without stopping or looking at him."The last guy who had the nerve to do it, ended up with Christophe's shovel up his ass. It's weird, I know, " she excused, as if she saw the horror on Kenny' s face " I just don't like being stared at." When the silence was getting longer, she felt the need to ease the tension:

"When Chris told us that he was bringing an apprentice, I didn't believe. He hardly trusts anyone. How did you do it?"

"I'm pretty" came the reply. Wendy laughed and sat down, on a chair, in front of a computer. Apparently, they had reached their destination and, to be honest, the orange-wearing guy was getting pretty tired of trying not to trip over the sea of wires. He had never seen such tangle in his life.

"I must admit", Wendy said, " you are pretty. But don't let it reach your head. We already have a smug guy in here, it's no need of another one."

"You keep saying 'we' and 'us'," Kenny said," but I only saw you and the Mole. "

"They are probably hiding somewhere. We are, after all, 2 miles under ground."


	5. A new job

**I'm sorry it took so long. I didn't expect my brain to focus this slowly. Eventually, the ideas came and here it is, a new chapter for my tiny little fic. Enjoy.**

**And oh, I don't own anything. Almost every character from this story is taken from South Park (which I don't own ). The plot is mine and the gray cat from the beginning too. XD And, I don't earn money from writing and 'publishing' this story, though it would be super awesome :D.**

**Disclaimers suck, but who am I to judge? Anyway, on with the story!**

**~ALLYed**

Kenny refused to stare in shock when he heard that they were deep underground. No, the last few weeks had been a total chaos, everyday coming with something crazy or at least weird. Plus, he got hit by a crazy, homicidal French guy with a cigarette eternally glued to him, 3 or 4 times. Or was it more? Shrugging and whipping the annoying thoughts, he noticed Wendy in front of a computer, typing like crazy. He couldn't figure out what she was doing and he was pretty good with computers.

" What are you doing?" he found himself asking. Without stopping or looking at him, she answered:

"It's a bank account. I'm breaking it."

"And that is not, like, illegal?" he asked innocently.

This made Wendy turn, with a incredulous face and smirked , the smirk slowly turning into a wide grin.

"You are adorable, do you know that? Of course it's illegal, why do you think we do it here, and more important, so secretly? We have a small crew and we give our services to a very select and exclusive kind of people."

"Only rich people" he added, thoughtfully scratching his chin.

"Yes. Rich and powerful. It's funny, actually. We 'served' a lot of people and sometimes, we turned against them for the ones who paid more."

"Mercenaries" Kenny said, after letting her words sink. "And" he continued after a short break "what are you exactly doing? Give me some examples."

"Yeah" she sighed," for that, you'll have to meet the whole crew."

"Yes! Finally! " he said excitedly. She laughed at his childish excitement, which she considered rather cute. She took a microphone and said in a demanding voice, which echoed in the hall.

"All the staff is asked to present in the conference room in 2 minutes." She turned to him, winked and motioned him to follow.

After another hard trip through the jungle of wires made the blonde sigh:

"Do you really need every single computer from this room?"

"Every one has important information. So yes, we need them. Badly. It's a whole network here."

Reaching for a door, she pulled the door knob and entered a dark room. When she switched the lights on, he saw a wooden, round table, with six chairs around it. In a corner, there was a coffee machine and a simple pendant hanging from the ceiling. The walls were white and that was it.

"Welcome in the conference room!" Wendy said enthusiastically. She flopped on a chair and yawned. "Sit by me!" she encouraged Kenny by grabbing his hand and dragging him down, practically forcing him to sit, all the time not ceasing to smile. It was, the blonde noticed, a warm, genuine smile, which relaxed him to an alarming state.

"They are late, again!" she said after a minute of waiting. "Men and their 'important' business! I tell you blondie, it is hell for me to work only with men! They are driving me crazy! So, I must warn you from the beginning : don't piss me off!"

"Yea, you don't want to see her when she's mad! She will be able to kick you in the ass precisely!" They both looked at the door, where a black guy, their age, sat, hands in his pockets.

"Token, glad you came" she said in a fake sweet voice. "Why don't you sit? We are waiting for the others to manage to come. They are probably lost, the poor dears."

The black guy sat down, across Kenny and asked, looking at her:

"Who's this?"

"This" Wendy said placing a protective hand on the blonde's shoulder " is Kenny, the new apprentice. So hands off, he's mine" she added with a grin.

"Damn girl, you always keep the cute ones."

Kenny smiled, uncertain if it was good or bad.

"Relax, bro'," Token said, observing the blonde's tensed posture" it's cool. It's the way we joke around here. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"It's sometimes unimaginably gross, but hey, it's just joking!" Wendy added sarcastically. The blonde smiled when he saw that Token playfully stuck his tongue at her. The door opened and two blonde guys entered the room, discussing ferociously. The girl cleared her throat and they stopped.

"Tweak, Gregory, finally! Sit down!" . They did as told, continuing their chatting, completely ignoring the other people from the room. Wendy rolled her eyes and said:

"Now where is the brat? We are waiting for him again! Tweak, he didn't come to you?"

One of the guys that just entered, the one with a messy, dirty-blonde hair and green eyes looked at her and nodded:

"I didn't know that he was back until you announced the meeting."

"You know how he is" the other blonde continued with a strong British accent, "he is probably around here smoking. This guy is surely going to die from lung cancer rather than getting shot."

"We'll just start without him" the girl said annoyed " he likes to make people wait for him anyway. So," he said after clearing her throat and motioning to Kenny," this is Kenny, the new guy. Kenny, this is the crew."

They all nodded to each other and she continued:

"Token is our mechanic. I swear he can repair anything one can ask."

The black mocked shyness, making the brunette girl roll her eyes."And also, he has a huge ego." She grinned and moved on.

"Tweak is the world's greatest code-breaker" Wendy said, pointing the blonde with green eyes, that was now smiling gently. He had bags under his eyes and, Kenny noticed, was slightly shaking. He made a mental note to ask about that later, when the girl continued.

"We works especially at night, after drinking way too much coffee."

"It's my business." He muttered, not bothering to hide his disinterest. Wendy resisted the urge to roll her eyes so she decided to keep talking.

"The other blonde, the British one, Gregory, is our outside man. He makes all of our deals and keeps us out of the eyes of the police and co. Christophe, the one that didn't bother to move his ass here, is the action figure. He makes all the dangerous stuff" she cleared her throat again "I really hope you will get along with them. They are all a pain, but I'm sure you'll manage."

"Whoa lady, hold your horses!" Gregory said, "you didn't say anything about yourself, so I will do it. She is our boss, the leader of this whole place. If it weren't for her, we wouldn't be here now."

"Greg, it's a long story. Why don't we let it for another time?" she added, shifting uncomfortably. Kenny noticed how the others frowned in union and felt some kind of cold tension in the air, so he decided to ease it, 'cause, really, it was scaring him.

"What can I do for help?"

Four pairs of eyes turned to him and he felt his blood rushing to his face. The others smiled and Wendy spoke:

"Actually, we all need help, but one of us needs is the most." When everyone nodded in agreement, she continued:

"The last mission turned bad, as you probably know…"

"Wait" Kenny interrupted " are we talking about the Mole here?"

"Yes" she said, folding her arms to her chest "we are. As I was saying, he was alone. We all knew it was dangerous and he did too, even though he'd never admit it, but, as the stubborn mole he is, he went alone. They caught him and he was nearly ripped apart. He is very important to us. Yes, he is stubborn and he never listens to anyone, but we care about him. He is the royal pain in the ass. So, we need you to go with him on every mission from now on."

"Do I really have a choice?" Kenny asked hopefully. In a low, serious tone, Wendy answered:

"Now, that you know about us, no, you don't really have a choice.

**Yay, finally! Another chapter is up! Read and review! Pretty please, it will be highly appreciated! The more readers I have, the faster I'll update!**

**Take care of yourselves everybody!**

**~ALLYed**


	6. Lessons somehow learned

**I'll have the courage to blame this delay on a writer's block. I know, I'm not a writer, but, for a while, I didn't know what to write, what should happen next or how this will end. Any smart 'writer' would have thought all, or at least half, of it from the beginning, but not me. No, I'm probably waiting for ideas to fall from the sky.**

**Anyway, ideas are always welcome. Warning: this chapter might be a little crappy, so sorry about it, but try to enjoy. And, oh, review.**

**~ALLYed**

"_Maybe somewhere, away from her, I will have a lighter and a cigarette, a ray of sun and I won't know the color of the heaven without scent. The raindrops are falling now on the blanket of cement. I can't forget, can't shut up, can't forgive, now that from the last moment has only left a quarter."_

This was written on the bathroom wall, next to the mirror and Kenny couldn't help but wonder about it's real, deeper meaning, and, more important, about who wrote it. While washing his hands, he read it again and then again, until he memorized it. He didn't know why, but somehow, the phrase reached his heart, reminding him how lonely he felt. Like, somewhere, inside him, something clicked… ' a quarter'… that sounded so damn familiar, but he didn't know why. He sighed, rolled his eyes at his girlishness and exited the bathroom.

It had already been a week since he first came to the organization, or 'the hive', how Wendy liked to name it, and since he was a member. Now, he knew where led every door and every hall. And, damn, they were so many! They had training room, computer rooms, bedrooms, game rooms, cafeteria, heck, even a meditation room! True, there was a lot of room for all those rooms, which meant that the place was huge! Anyway, to make the story shorter, he was now training to become the Mole's partner, but without the brunette knowing. The training consisted of physical and intense psychic therapy. They taught him how to be calm, but keep his muscles tensed, how to think clearly when his life was in danger and, the hardest part, how to avoid getting emotionally involved. He frowned deeply as he made his way through the dark corridor, remembering how particularly exhausting his education was. Gregory had come up with the program especially for Kenny, who was not exactly the mercenary type. He had the impulse to always protect the others before protecting himself and, here, it was considered a deadly mistake. He inhaled deeply, then sighed. It was exhausting. He rubbed his temples, sighed again and entered the meditation room. The walls were painted with a dark purple. In the middle of the room was placed a mattress covered with black sheets and there were candles everywhere. It held a specific scent and Kenny was already accustomed to it. The atmosphere was soothing. It was Gregory's territory and it was the place where Kenny spent two hours a day, learning how to control his emotions. From Gregory who, Kenny had to admit, was a great actor.

The door opened, then clicked shut, making the blonde snap from his thoughts. He turned his head to see the British approaching him, with a small, wooden box in his hand. Kenny quirked an eyebrow when Greg opened the box and a pack of cards was revealed.

"We are going to play poker."

The American blonde wanted to frown, but remembered all the shit he had learned the last few days and kept a blank expression. Gregory grinned and said:

"You are getting better, but better isn't enough. I know you're confused as hell. And now you want to punch me in the face" he added while making himself comfortable on the mattress, in a sitting position. " Come on, sit. We have to start playing."

" How come you always know what I feel and I can barely even guess what you want from me when you're asking it out loud?" he wondered more for himself, while sitting, facing the other blonde.

" We bet on hits. The one who wins gets the privilege to punch the other" explained the British mechanically, at the same time sharing the cards.

"Then, I will win this game for sure!" Kenny added with an ear-to-ear grin.

"Why, are you so good at poker?"

"No, it's been a long time and I probably lost my edge, but hitting you is my number one ideal!"

They both smirked and took their cards. The first times, Kenny got his ass kicked, literally, but every time Gregory won, he hit him in the shoulder, in the same spot.

"You are so dumb, I'm sorry to say it!" Gregory said a little annoyed, but still calm."You just don't get it, do you? Idiot, every time you drag your cards I see your expression and read you like an open book. A little control please! Don't make me think that all those hours I spent teaching you were in vain."

Kenny frowned internally and suddenly, he got and idea: maybe he couldn't control his facial muscles, but if he could distract the British and make him forget about his lecturing, Kenny could win. Smiling smugly about his brilliant idea, he took his cards and said:

"I was thinking, how come you have such a strong British accent?"

Gregory looked at him with a 'I-knew-you-were-stupid-before-but-this-is-ridiculous', though suspiciously, but answered anyway:

"I grew up in London and I came here with my mother and father when I was 9. Why are you asking?"

"Why did you move here?" Kenny continued, ignoring the other's question.

"My father's job… we just had to move."

"What was he doing?"

"He was working in the furniture industry, selling and buying it for really important people."

The American teen stopped, as if in deep thought. On the inside, he made a happy dance. He couldn't believe that the mighty Gregory, the face-reading expert had fallen in his game. He was more than satisfied. Willing his inner-self to calm down, he continued, shifting his leg to a more comfortable position.

"Do you keep in touch with them?"

"Yes, I do" the other replied "especially since my father's retirement. My mother bakes amazing chocolate cookies" he added, smugly. They laughed together when, suddenly, Kenny stopped and, with the most evil grin mankind ever came up with, he put down his cards: four aces and a six. Gregory stared at the cards, stared at Kenny, then stared at the cards again. Sudden, joyful laughter filled the room once again, as they both got up.

"You know," the British started " honestly, I always thought you were a complete and utter idiot, but I must confess that I'm impressed. You learned fast."

" Thanks, brit-boy" the other said with a smirk " I had a good teacher."

"Yea, I did a pretty good job, didn't I ?"

Kenny wanted to protest, but chose to roll his eyes and let it be. Gregory was the kind of self-loving person and it suited him and if it made him happy, Ken had nothing against it.

"So, " he said " this means no more classes with you?"

"Nope, my mission here is done. Hell, you could handle even undercover things. But that's not what we do."

" Great. Let's go drink something."

Gregory nodded, but frowned almost immediately when a hard hit landed on his shoulder. Seeing the smirk on the other's face, he understood : it was the bet. For that, he did the most mature thing he could muster, he stuck his tongue out. Again, they burst in a fit of laughter.

"They live here or in England?" Kenny asked, after exiting the meditation room. Greg turned around, with a curious expression on his face.

"Oh, you forgot" the hood-wearing teen snorted playfully " let me enlighten you. Your parents, dumbass. Are they here or there?"

" They're here."

Their voice tones grew lower and lower then faded away, as they walked down the dark hallway. Two dark-green eyes followed them for a while. There was clearly something with the new kid, something that intrigued _him_ to no end.


	7. Time to find out

**Note for the last chapter I made: I know nothing about poker, so excuse me if I said anything wrong. That's it for now, more at the end.**

A lot of paper was scattered on the floor, but the most of it was placed on the wooden desk, covering all of it's surface. They were all building plans, complicated notes, simple notes, or just plain white paper, waiting in line to be used, in a way or another. Bent over them, elbows sitting on the desk and with his chin rested in his palms stood the French mercenary. The half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips discharged soft fume, which slowly dissipated in the air, swallowed by the darkness of the dim-lit room, the only source of light being the lamp above the table.

Christophe looked tired and, like always, had bags under his eyes. Still, his eyes ran over the tiny text in front of him, as he underlined words or phrases. From time to time, he stopped to drop the ashes or to crush a burned cigarette in the ash tray, almost immediately lighting another one. All the time, the room was sunk in the deepest silence possible.

"Hey, Chris!" was heard from the other side of the door, milliseconds before Tweak entered as a storm, almost breaking the before-said object, which made weird noises from it's hinges. Almost immediately, he tripped on his own feet and a loud thump echoed in the study.

"Ow…" mumbled the hyper-active blonde, getting up from the floor. " It happens all the time. I think the gravity has a bigger effect on me! Hey, did you know that the fastest muscle in your body is the one that lets your eye blink?"he continued without breathing.

The brunette stared at him, in the same position he was in the whole time. Tweak kept blinking to prove his point, then kept saying random things, things that passed past Christophe's ears like wind. He was sure that if the even attempted to understand what the coffee-addict said, the utter craziness would poison his already damaged brain. So he tried to make him stop:

" Tweak! Tweak, god dammit!"

The blonde suddenly stopped explaining how some birds have only lower eye-lids and quirked an eye-brow.

" No need to yell, French boy!" he said calmly crossing his arms. "I'm here, you know? And my hearing is fine."

"I'm sure you came 'ere with a reason!" , said the Mole, ignoring the other's childish behavior.

"Yes, you're right, I have something for you! Wendy sent me!"

With that, the took a crumpled piece of paper and threw it somehow towards the brunette. Christophe stretched an arm and caught is with ease.

"Merci!" he added before leaning forward to read it.

"No problem!" came the joyous reply, along with a ear-to-ear grin. Then, he went out just like he entered, slamming the door unintentionally. Chris let out a heavy sigh, then shook his head slightly: the boy was hopeless. At the same moment, the door flew open to reveal the same blonde:

"Wendy said she'll come to you later! I think you are in trouble again!" Tweak smirked like the little hellion he was.

"Get ze fuck out, I'm trying to work 'here!" came the growled reply.

"Geez frenchie," Tweak started, shoving his hands in his pants pockets "You need to calm down, you'll get wrinkles!" His eyes went wide and he quickly shut the door, when a sharp pencil rammed in the wood where his head stood just seconds ago. Crazy laughter was heard down the hall and the Mole muttered a very colorful French obscenity. He took a deep breath to regain his composure, lit a new cigarette and turned his attention to the paper in his hand. He couldn't really understand what it was saying, it looked like someone tried to chew it then a dog peed on it. He blinked, cursed again and threw it in the darkest corner of the room. If that caffeine addict wouldn't have been as good with computers as if he was raised by them, he would have kicked his ass a really long tie ago.

A soft knock at the door found him studying the cigarette between his fingers. He looked at the door, then said:

"Come in".

Just like he expected, Wendy appeared from behind it, with a green folder in her hands and a paper bag.

"You didn't come to eat. Again" she said in the same tone a mother uses when scolding her child. "When was the last time you ate? Or slept, for that matter?"

"I don't zink you came 'here to ask me about my diet, non?" he answered tiredly, quirking an eyebrow when she frowned and put her free hand on her hip.

"Actually, I did. And because I know what stubborn mole you are, I brought you a sandwich and coffee." With that, she handed him the bag, smiling affectionately. When he refused to move, she took a seat and placed the food on the desk.

"Chris, I really think you should eat this." The tone she used and the serious look on her face made him give up and mutter something about 'damn convincing women' while getting his sandwich. She grinned, satisfied and continued speaking:

"I want to take advantage of the fact that you're mouthful and tell you something. You remember Kenny, the one you brought here like, a week ago." The mole nodded, while slowly chewing. She took this as a good sign and moved on:

"Gregory taught him some stuff ever since he arrived. I must say that he is a very smart kid, he learns very fast…" she stopped when she saw the questioning look Christophe gave her, then cleared her throat. "Anyway, the point is, you should teach him something about fighting and weaponry, you know, the basic stuff."

The French swallowed and looked her in the eyes, in a pretty frightening manner. His voice sounded deep and dangerous when he spoke:

"W'y would he need fighting lessons? Weren't you keeping 'im for working at ze base?

"I still do" she said smiling nervously " but I think you could use some help…" Her eyes went wide when she realized what she just said." I didn't mean that you were weak, just saying that…"

"You zink I need help."

She was now expecting him to start yelling and cursing and tell her that it wasn't her god damned business, a whole tantrum to say the least. But it didn't came. The Mole was as calm as composed as he could be. The she realized:

"You motherfucker! You knew!"

"Oui." He couldn't keep a smirk from appearing on his lips." Nothing happens 'ere without me knowing, you know? Besides" he stopped a few seconds to take a drag from his cigarette "w'y did you think I brought 'im in the first place?"

She sighed in relief and said:

"Now that is a nice thing to hear. Training starts tomorrow at seven a.m. in the gym. You will be there on time, ok?"

"Let me make a schedule. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"That's great!" she said clapping her hands together. "I'll head out now. Bye."

"One more thing" he said just before she exited the room. " Why did you zink I would get mad?"

"Because," she said smirking, "you are such a drama queen sometimes." Then she blew him a kiss and shut the door. From the desk, he could hear her giggling.

**Sincerely, I really want to finish this story, but I won't jump to the end. I get ideas as I go. I hope you like it, I wait for suggestions and/or critics anytime. **

**~AllyED**

2


	8. Another day in paradise

One of the rooms in that labyrinth of corridors was a room that everyone liked the most. It didn't have too much technology, there was nothing special about it, heck, it looked like a normal living room. Still, after one hard day, they all came here to eat, relax, laugh and talk to each other. So when Christophe entered this room in the same evening he talked to Wendy, he saw Token sprawled on the couch, one arm covering his eyes, and the other members of the hive joyously eating, drinking or getting outrageously drunk at the round table.

"Oh My Freakin' Lord, who is this guy?" came the voice of a slightly intoxicated Token, who was now on a sitting position and pointing at the Mole. The others turned their heads simultaneously to the brunette mercenary and welcomed him in their specific ways:

"I don't know Token, I haven't seen him for ages! May I see your ID, sir?" said the just as drunk Tweak, bursting into a fit of laughter at the same time with his black drinking-mate.

"Knock it off, you two! You saw him tonight, Tweak!" defended Wendy. She was always the one who tried to do stuff in the most diplomatic way, if possible. If not, she would kick some ass and bring peace. So, Tweak took two unopened cans of beer and went to sit next to his friend on the couch. The beer kept them silent and, honestly, it made everyone happy. Kenny and Gregory nodded to Christophe then returned to their apparently very captivating discussion. He lighted a cigarette and slid against the wall until he sat down, comfortably leaning against it. Wendy handed him a can of beer then went to chat with Kenny and the British. With that, a low murmur adorned the room, giving it a quiet, peaceful, and even sleepy atmosphere. It was quite a sweet sight to see: the guys at the table occasionally changed words with the ones on the couch and laughter would burst. Empty cans of beer lay on the floor, among crumpled pieces of paper and plastic plates. It was as if they weren't in a super secret organization, it was like they were at home, free of worries, having a little party while parents were out of town . But they all knew better than that.

Lost in his own train of thoughts and smoking the third cigarette, Christophe looked at the occupants of the table as a question made him curious:

"How did you guys end up creating this organization?"

It was Kenny's, of course. Looks were changed, but no one hurried to speak, a heavy silence falling over them. Kenny knew from the beginning this was not the place to hail flower power and unicorns, but now, while seeing the enormous pain mixed with fear cast in their eyes, he realized what it truly was: the haunting of long lost memories. Sure, they all hid it pretty well, but not well enough, Gregory would say. The shock came when the hood wearing teen saw the expression of the before-said British, who's eyes were a little bit wider than usual, looked in a far off distance and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. What could have been so horrible? He knew they were strong and that they had all been through a lot of shit, ever since childhood. South Park was never a normal place, he doubted it was now and he couldn't say he madly liked it this way, though there were times when fun just wouldn't stop. A glance at the Mole and Kenny noticed he was a little uncomfortable too, but not in the same state the others were in.

"I don't have to know, it's not a big deal" Kenny shifted uncomfortably in his chair, before opening another can of beer. That brought a fake, uneasy smile on Wendy's lips, as she sipped her drink.

His feet securely attached to the ground, the blonde gently pushed his chair and sat up. Waiting until the room stopped spinning, he shook his head and headed to the door. "Good night" his voice echoed through the now opened door and in the hall, as he made a waving sign. He didn't stay to see who responded or who moved, to say the least. Not that he didn't care, but he was far too absorbed in his own thoughts. These people, he knew they were all fucked up, that they had been through a lot of mind-blowing stuff, stuff that would drive insane any other person. Tweak has been and is a caffeine addict and it turned him into a hyper active annoying, but genius, motherfucker. He always seemed so joyful and careless, just like Token and Wendy, but sometimes their eyes had a gloomy shade, something… ah, fucking headache. He was really tolerant to alcohol, he really was, but he was also tired, and everything seemed to be spinning. He was grateful when his hand touched something solid, a wall, thank goodness.

The sound of a door opening, then clicking shut, made him turn and look at the Mole, as he lit a cigarette, then took a long drag. Kenny realized: he craved to have his lips around one of those cancer sticks and the feeling of smoke filling his lungs. He wasn't that much of a smoker, he smoked occasionally, whenever he found a person who had them. It was… economic.

"I want one too" his voice sounded hoarse as he spoke, then he paused. "I'm not desperate, but I neeeed." He pouted, intentionally putting accent on the last word. He could see the brunette smirking when he slowly walked to him, fiddling with the pack of cigarettes. In other circumstances, he would have been just a little embarrassed. Alcohol intoxicated his brain and set his thoughts free. When he was a child, he used to condemn his father when he drank over and over again, like a barrel with no bottom. Now, things were different. The first time he got drunk was at the age of twelve. It had been… he didn't want to remember. He spent months trying to forget how he died choked up with his own vomit. Now, in decent amounts, alcohol made him happy to the point where he didn't give a damn about how his thoughts came out directly from his brain, with no kind of filter and heck, he liked it. Besides, he thought as he was handed the cigarette, along with a lighter, seize the day! The moment, in this case. The hangover was a bitch, but it was worth it. If a really bad headache and sore throat was the price for oblivion, he was willing to pay. Drunk logic. Don't ever try to understand it.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, not noticing Christophe's piercing gaze.

"We 'ave classes togezer tomorrow." The word 'classes ' was said in a tone that reeked of sarcasm. Kenny opened his eyes and stared in a certain point on the wall in front of him.

"How is that?"

"I must teach you 'ow zo fight."

"And I guess everyone knew, except me." When no reply came, the blonde continued: "Not that I mind, it's just that it seems like I have no control over my life."

"Get over eet" Christophe said blankly, with a slight frown on his face. "Come zo ze gym after breakfast. If I'm not zere, wait."

With that, he turned to leave. Kenny felt like a hurricane started in his head, threatening to turn his brain in mush. And of course, his legs were also not willing to support him anymore. "Chris" he whispered weakly, just before he fell to his knees with a thump. In an instant, the Frenchman was next to him, helping him to his feet. Kenny was too dizzy to feel when one of his arms was thrown over the brunette's neck for support, or when a foreign arm caught him by the waist. Also, he was too nauseous to think about Christophe's fast reaction. It was as if he cared. The two of them walked through the dark corridor, the blonde being mostly dragged.

"If you puke on me, I will kill you." It was a warning, Kenny realized a few moments after it had been told. Strange, cause it came out as a soft whisper. He grunted when he felt like a truck just hit his head and decided that thinking was a bad idea. Vaguely, he heard a door opening, he felt falling in a soft mattress and covers being pulled over his limp body. The part of him that was still awake muttered something close to a 'thanks', before falling deeply asleep.

Later on, he woke up and went blindly, stumbling, to the bathroom. The worst thing, he thought as he looked at himself in the mirror, was not the terrible headache or the unbearable thirst, it was the taste in his mouth. It felt like he ate yesterdays sushi covered with garbage and dog food. Suddenly, he felt nauseous, his stomach turned upside down and, the mirror said, his face turned a sick yellow. Still, he didn't puke, instead, he fell to his knees. The cold floor was more than welcome to his heated body, as the room stared spinning again. His throat felt so dry, he needed water desperately, but he wouldn't get up. If an earthquake started in that moment and he was the only one that could save the world from doom, he wouldn't get up. He licked his lips and opened his eyes when he heard the water in the sink running, then stopping. A glass of crystal clear water was held in front of him, inches away from his face. The blonde attempted to get to the vital liquid, but the mere thought made his brain hurt. As if reading his mind, the glass moved to his lips and helped him drink. He blinked a few times and, when the room stopped spinning and his vision became clear, he recognized a certain brunette Frenchman standing above him. There was no need for words. Those dark green, piercing eyes shared stories about understanding and maybe, a little pity. He'd never seen such mesmerizing eyes.

"_Beautiful"_ muttered the half asleep blond. The word tasted good and it made him smile. He bet his life that he wouldn't remember anything the next day, but it was alright, because, when you're drunk, you tend to embarrass yourself and the hangover was a blessing to those who wanted to forget. He passed out as if a switch was turned off. His head fell, his chin hitting his chest. Christophe sighed and carried Kenny to his room once more, tucking him in bed. Before he left, he took a glance at the sleeping form and exited the dark room without a word.

1


	9. No answers, but a start

With an incredible dried throat, sore eyes and an ugly nausea, Kenny woke up. He groaned, while turning to his side to face the white wall. The first thought that came to his mind : 'I'll never drink again'. Yea, he knew better than that. A headache started to crush down his brain and now, he was more determined when he decided not to drink again, ever, seriously.

What happened last night? He started going over the events last night and, in spite of the awful brain damage, images started building in his mind.

_He walked down the hall, next to Gregory. They were both in surprisingly good moods, after their last lesson, as they headed towards the 'living-room', or so they called it. It was, actually, just another room, with a couch, a table, a fridge for beers, or food, occasionally, and a TV. It was quite ironic, 'cause everyone went there to escape the routine of work. What routine, in deed. Breaking bank accounts or making plans for assassinations was not that much of a big deal._

_Tweak, Token and Wendy were already there, visibly tipsy, and they welcomed the newcomers with a loud cheer, not bothering to get up from their comfy chairs. _

"_I've heard you passed the Brit's tests" came Token's voice, interrupted by a hiccup."I think they're a pain. I really don't see the purpose of this. It's a mind fuck - worthless and unpleasant." He stopped to take a large gulp of beer and Gregory hurried to correct him:_

"_Just because you didn't understand what I was trying to teach you, it doesn't mean that it's worthless for others. Kenny here is going to work on the field and he'll need it, believe me."_

"_I say you'll quit within a week" the black turned to speak with Kenny. "Each one of us have their drops of craziness, but that French guy, man, he's insane."_

"_And he glares." All the heads turned to face Tweak, who was shaking more than usually. Wendy snorted, but agreed._

"_Everyone glares" she shook her head, then rested it on top of her folded arms on the table."It's common nature. But you're right, he glares."_

"_Do you guys hear yourselves, such nonsense! And what if he glares?" Gregory said again, folding his arms over his chest in protest. Kenny sat down, Gregory followed, as the brunette girl handed them beers._

_Emptying a can of bitter alcohol and taking another one, Token threw his eyes to heaven and spoke firmly " Dude, it's Christoophe-fucking-DeLorne we're talking about here. He's got a different type of glare for every situation. Heck, he even glares when he's happy!"_

"_That's a very rare one" continued Tweak, the twitching never ceasing."Don't touch his shovel." He went on, his eyes wide, terror visible in his eyes._

"_Guys, I don't like this conversation. Gossip is wrong."_

_Everyone burst into a fit of laughter, excluding Gregory, whose comment was the actual reason for it. Instead, he chose to frown and shut up. Trying to stop his team mates from laughing was equal with trying to dry out the ocean, while taking it's water with a spoon. Soon enough, the laughter ceased, being replaced by snickers and small giggles here and there. He sighed and resigned, letting his facial muscles unwind and, all of a sudden, he felt a lot better. 'Why get tensed and stressed for all the small things. There are worse things, so better wait for them to get you pissed.' Certainly, a lot better. So he started listening to the others chatting about random stuff, like how much of a bitch was the last guy they had to escort out of town because he was a too rich/paranoid to simply drive. _

"_I'm tellin' you, all the lawyers are lying bitches. You don't want to have them around. Especially if they're women." Token's voice sounded so sure, the British had to restrain himself from labeling the comment as misogynistic. A small smile appeared in the corner of his lips as Wendy punched him pretty hard in the shoulder:_

"_Women hater."_

"_Woman, I love women! But not if they're lawyers, they scare the shit out of me." The black's little piece of speech made everyone nod. It, somehow, made sense._

_Silence fell over them, a comfortable silence. It made Kenny's stomach feel awkward. It was as if, after a long time, he belonged to a family. Though he liked the situation, there was a single thought spinning in his head and it kept bugging him:_

"_I like it here, it's a nice place" he spoke, before stretching out." There is something bothering me" pause for effect , "and that's the fact that I'm not the only blond here." _

_Every one blinked, and, within seconds, suggestions started falling, surprising Kenny. His comment was supposed to be a joke, but then he remembered: never try to muse on drunk logic. Token, as usually, went first._

"_Tweak can shave his head and Brit can dye his hair yellow or somethin'."_

"_Blonde is yellow, dumbass." _

"_Stop scolding him, Greg. You're no better than he is. Drunk, I mean." She leaned back in her chair, then continued " and so am I. I think we should head out now."_

"_No no no!" the orange wearing teen hurried, slapping Gregory slightly on the shoulder." I have classes with a crazy mercenary tomorrow. And he's crazy, he tried to kill me with his shovel!"_

_Wendy sighed, and rested her chin on the table once more. _

"_Look man, you have to be smart when you fight DeLorne, try to outsmart him, y'know, think… I dunno. Greg, explain it to him."_

"_He will try to learn about you, then exploit what he knows, in his advantage and your disadvantage." He stopped to open another can and take a big gulp. "Then, there's the psychological damage he can do."_

_Tweak interrupted: "Brainfuck."_

"_Yes, brainfuck, you can call it that. If he gets in your head, you're nailed."_

_By the time Christophe entered the room, Kenny alone had consumed too much beer to remember exactly how much._

After that, he blacked out. He didn't know how he ended up in his room. He remembered smoking, because of the nicotine taste that still lingered in his mouth, and he remembered a pair of glistening dark-green eyes staring at him. Suddenly, he sat up, eyes wide opened, as realization struck him. There was only one person with eyes of that shade of green. If he hadn't been himself, he probably would be embarrassed. Actually, the situation pretty much amused him. There were dozens of people in hell who could tell that they had been killed by the mercenary, but, either in hell or on Earth, he was the only one who could tell that he'd been tucked in bed by DeLorne. The dude was strong, fast, a cold blooded killer, a prodigy and… and, fuck, he had to meet him at the gym! In a second, Kenny was heading to the bathroom and, within ten minutes, he was fresh and running to grab something to eat. He burst through the kitchen's door, panting heavily. A sleepy-looking, twitching Tweak, in a bathing gown, was making himself coffee and threw him a 'are-you-crazy?' look. Waiting for Kenny's ragged breath to calm down, the coffee addict scratched his neck and turned back to his own business. Feeling better, the orange-wearing glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. Mockingly, it showed 3:14. He couldn't believe this was happening. To kill his suspicion, he asked:

"Tweak, what time is it?"

" It's 3:15" came the reply, after a few moments of hesitation and a violent twitch. Rolling his eyes, Kenny continued.

"I know that. It's a.m or p.m? "

"A.m. It's kinda hard to tell without windows, eh? I'm telling you, the walls and ceiling are going to collapse one day and we'll all be dead."

Ken remained silent, chewing on his frustration. He couldn't believe he acted so recklessly, so he made a mental note: first thing you do when waking up is looking at the time. With that matter settled. He sighed and went back to his room. Walking absent mindedly through the dark corridor, he frowned and traced invisible lines on the wall with his fingers as he passed by, Seriously, didn't they have enough money to put some god-damned lights ? Walking shouldn't be this much of a bother. The blond sighed and scowled. He really needed a smoke right now. His face lit at the idea of warm smoke filling up his lungs, calming his nervous system. He inhaled deeply, shuddering in anticipation. Yep, it was an emergency. Turning around, he made his way to the brunette mercenary's room. It was the last door from the main corridor. The hive had lots of corridors and the dorm rooms were on the main, which had to be the darkest.

Stretching out a slightly shaking hand, he knocked on the door shyly at first, then harder. He heard footsteps on a carpeted floor, the knob turned and the door opened to reveal a bored Christophe, his feet bare and hair ruffled, in a more accentuated manner than usual. Kenny felt a familiar scent filling up his nostrils. It smelled like dirt, smoke and coffee and maybe a little bit of blood. He cleared his throat and spoke:

"I- I need a smoke."

The French quirked an eyebrow, an amused gleam in his eyes, but he shrugged and stepped aside to let the blond in. The room was lit poorly by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling. Though, he could notice a mattress laying in a corner, a short table next to it, paper scattered everywhere, a shovel against the opposite wall, another one on the mattress and a pile of what looked like clothes in another corner of the room. A cigarette was pushed in his face to wake him up. He took it, grateful that a lighter clicked and, soon enough, the cancer stick was lit. Taking a long drag, he closed his eyes as he blew the smoke. When coming back to earth, he noticed that Christophe was sitting on the mattress, a cigarette hanging from his lips, as he looked over some papers. He went to sit down next to the mercenary.

The silence was broken when Chris spoke, in a hoarse, nicotine affected voice:

"You came all ze way 'ere for a smoke?"

The blond decided to look in the darkest corner of the room, pretending he didn't hear the question. What could he say? 'I woke up in the middle of the night, thinking that I had training with you and I ran like someone with a bad psychical issue to the kitchen, where the weirdest person here thought I was weird?'. As if.

"So what are you doing?" he spoke, changing the subject and his train of thoughts.

"Zis ees a building plan, a mansion" the brunette replied, handing the other a large piece of paper." You see, zis is ze room where ze object we want is held," he continued, dragging his index finger over the file."Now zis is ze front door, but we won't use it, non? Non. We need another way in."

Kenny scratched his chin, thinking."What is this?" he asked, pointing at a small opening in one of the bedrooms' wall.

"I think zat eez for ventilation. It's no good, I already checked."

"And what is this?" Kenny continued, showing a little channel, which started from the street and seemed to disappear under the building.

"Zose are ze sewers. Zey go from the street, as you can see, and zey continue under ze house." He paused, then quickly, he continued "I think it goes closer zo ze foundation than usually, if my information eez correct."

"If it is, you could simply dig, right?" the blond continued the idea.

"Zat eez correct. As soon as we're in, the rest will be too easy."

A small smile appeared in the mercenary's features. He knew from the beginning that there had been a reason why he chose the blond.

"What are you after?" the said blond asked, after taking a deep drag from his cigarette, as if the smoke was more valuable than air.

" _We_ are after some files for some lawyer. You see, ze mansion belongs zo a drug dealer, who eez also a fucking pedofile. Zat folder should be ze evidence for taking him down once and for all."

"So we're the good guys here!" Kenny couldn't hold back his enthusiasm, he really wanted to find out _and_ show what he was capable of. This might be the best opportunity.

"I zink so."

"So we get like, spying devices or some of that cool stuff?" And he couldn't hold back his grin either.

"Are you stupeed?" the brunette looked at him, an eyebrow slightly up. "Zis eez not a _fucking _ movie!"

Kenny let out a soft sigh, pouting, just a little. With a quick eye, Christophe observed and couldn't believe his eyes.

"Are you pouting? Fucking pouting? From all ze things? Fuck, zuch an idiot."

"Yea? And well, you're a douche bag!" came the reply, after the blond crossed his arms on his chest.

"Fuck you, bien?" Christophe couldn't restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He was starting to have second thoughts about the perfect apprentice and all. The next comment, still, was the cherry on top.

"I don't speak douche bag-ic!"

Laughter erupted from his throat, Kenny following shortly after. There could still be hope.

When they calmed, the soon-to-be mercenary scratched his head nervously and said:

"Y'know, thank you for earlier…". Christophe stopped him instantly, adding quickly.

"Don't mention eet. Really, don't. I helped you because I needed you zo be useful."

"Aw, the Mole tucked me in bed because he needed me! God, this is too much! I think I'm going to need a beer!"

" 'ey, don't say that faggot's name 'ere, zis ees my place! And zat eez not a reason for you to get drunk!"

"Too bad, I get rather frisky when I'm drunk!" Ken added, a suggestive smirk playing on his features and turning into a toothy grin when the brunette smiled too.

"You zink you're such a smart ass, don't you?" He took a deep drag, with the blond watching him intently. Then he remembered:

"Hey, if I recall correctly, you said something about training."

"Yes, I deed."

"And shouldn't we go to rest or something?"

"Non." With that, he got up and, seconds later, he threw a heavy backpack at Kenny and told him to follow. Soon enough, they were both in the black Hummer. Christophe was rummaging through his pants pocket and took of a black piece of cloth. He moved a little closer to the blond, stretched his arms towards him and almost whispered:

"Come 'ere."

"Um, what are you doing?" Ken said, obeying nonetheless.

"Now turn around." Doing that, he felt a shudder down his spine. The brunette leaned closer and put his arms around him, whispering in his ear:

"I'm blindfolding you. Your recommendation, remember?"

Kenny blushed a little and the French, of course, noticed. Making a double knot at the back of Kenny's head to make sure the cloth wouldn't fall, he drew back and muttered 'pervert' before stepping on the acceleration.

**My longest chapter yet! Yay for me! I think I'm gonna need a beer to celebrate! XD**

**Anyway, back to the story…I think it's getting quite interesting! I also have some drawings with the Mole and Kenny, but, sadly, I don't have a scanner, so they're useless.**

**P.S: I watched 'BASEcketball' and, dude, Trey and Matt are kissing at some point! I laughed my ass off at all the other scenes of the movie, but that particular one left me with my mouth hanging open! I didn't see it coming…**

**Keep reading (if you read it at all) and take care of yourselves!**

**~ALLYed**


	10. I must die now, right?

His eyes were a little sore, the blindfold was pretty tight, really, and it seemed that hours have passed since they left the base. Shouldn't they be up already, or at least close to it? He didn't like to bitch, and he knew that Christophe didn't like it either, but his curiosity was taking the best of him, bugging him, making him itch to know what was going on, at the same time, unconsciously shifting in his chair. So he opened his mouth to speak when rough fingers curled around the black cloth and he could see again. Honestly, he expected to be blind for a couple of moments due to some extremely powerful daylight. But he remembered, it was around four o'clock in the morning and the sunrise was still far away. On the window to his side, he noticed that the brunette was driving fast on an empty highway that seemed to go endlessly through the region. On the other side, the driver .. well, drove, a lit cigarette held firmly between his lips. From time to time, Mole would blow twirls of smoke, that quickly disappeared out the open window. After a closer look, Kenny noticed a smirk on the other's face. He didn't even want to know what was it all about. All of his questions about where they were going or why, dissipated in thin air just like the smoke. He didn't understand the guy and he wasn't going to start now.

So he leaned back in the comfortable chair and relaxed. Or tried to. Another glance at the mercenary and he saw that the smirk wouldn't go away, it grew wider, more prominent as seconds passed. The blond felt a slight pang of anger appearing in his chest, growing larger, metamorphosing into pure rage, pushing between his lungs, making breathing a huge discomfort. He clenched his fist, part of anger, part of frustration: he always had a weird temper, but getting this angry from a little, probably, innocent smirk, was ridiculous. Yea, right. _Christophe_ and _innocent _were not meant to be in the same sentence. It was like putting an eight-year old fight demons and save the world from doom. He smiled a little. Maybe it wasn't the best example. Back in his childhood, he and his friends used to do it without anyone making too much fuss about it.

Another quick glance at the mercenary made him realize that it hadn't been the smirk that annoyed him so much, because it was gone now. It was curiosity. Evil, bad, unusual, the one that killed the cat curiosity and himself being, for the first time in his life, the one who didn't know. Usually, he was the one who had all the answers. Not math or physics crap, he didn't give a damn about them, but facts of life. Like, what's impossible and what's not. It was part of his living, it was how he won all the bets. Now, he only knew little detail of a mission with a dangerously crazy mercenary in a god-forsaken place, a mission that could change his life.

With a sudden break, the car stopped. The inertia made his body jerk forward, snapping him from the daze. Christophe got out of the car and Kenny followed. Outside, he noticed that they were now in a small town, similar to South Park: quiet, houses, a few shops here and there and that was it.

"Hand me ze backpack." Came the French's voice, capturing the blonde's attention once again. He blinked and snapped, throwing him the bag that had been sitting on his chair. Christophe caught it with ease, his arms muscles straining. It was Kenny's turn to smirk: he wasn't supposed to notice how his team mate's muscles tensed, especially if they weren't from his abs. Arms just weren't that hot to be noticed. So he signed, resigning. If the perverted part of him wanted to take over, fine, but not during a mission. He didn't want to screw up from the beginning. By the time he finished arguing with his twisted mind, the Mole had made appear, as if by magic, three silverish pistols, a shotgun, two knives and something that looked liked a sniper riffle, all of them placed on the car's hood.

"Zhose" Chris started explaining, pointing at the first two pistols " are ze Eagles, mine. Ze next one eez yours, it's an USP . 45. Ze shotgun eez mine and zo one of ze knives. You get ze tranquilizer."

"Tranquilizer? What for?" the blond stared, a slight frown appearing on his face.

"For guard dog. I fuckeeng hate guard dogs." His tone grew lowder and more irritated than usual, but calmed down. "Take your fuckeeng guns, we 'ave two 'ours to do eet."

Ken hated to admit, but the weapons were heavy. Even the damned knife. Luckily, the tranquilizer gun had a strap, so he could hang it on his shoulder. He noticed the French removing the cover of the entrance into the sewers with a crowbar, then graciously motioning to it:

"Madame."

The blue-eyed teen had to refrain himself from hitting the mercenary. He was so annoying. Instead, the climbed down the stair, Mole covering the entrance and following.

To make the story shorter, travelling through the sewers was not cool. At all. The air was barely breathable, not to mention the crap and all the nasty stuff. Ken was not someone to be that bothered of nasty stuff, but the place made him shudder. He followed the Mole blindly, as they made turn every now and then, the smell and humidity beginning to get unbearable. He had no reasons to restrain himself from holding his nose and he felt relieved by doing so, but bumped against the Mole as they stopped. The Frenchman hissed something, probably obscene and offending ,in his native language, but Kenny didn't understand a thing from it. Instead, he focused his attention on what Christophe was doing. Carefully lifting the shovel, he hammered slowly on the ceiling on the tunnel, moving from time to time, while listening intently to the sounds the bumping made. Hitting a particular place, a particular noise came out, making the brunette smirk a little: this is where he began digging. He planted powerful hits on that that spot, until the old concrete started to fall to the ground. Soon, the hard material was gone and earth came to view.

"Come 'ere and kneel."

Kenny blinked. He couldn't believe his ears. He grinned stupidly and replied:

"Are you gonna pay me?"

"Merde" the mercenary growled, angering the blonde." N'est pas le temps pour folie, idiot!"

Faster than Kenny could react, he was pinned against a wall, his back hitting it painfully, the sharp edge of the shovel pressed against his throat, choking him, and the angry mercenary growled at him dangerously.

"You better listen zo me now! Zis eez serious! I'm not getting killed today because you can't stop zhinking wiz you dick! Zo listen carefully: don't zhink, don't move, don't fucking breathe if eet's not for ze job, compris?" The blonde swallowed his anger, deciding that pissing the Mole more than he already was would be suicide. So he gave a slow nod, hiding the fact that he was scared shitless. Still, he couldn't hold back a relieved sigh when the grip on his neck loosened.

"Now, come 'here and kneel." The blonde opened his mouth to ask 'why' but the murderous glare the other sent him made him change his mind. So he did as told, his movement insecure and awkward. The Mole gave a snort and climbed behind Kenny's neck. Then, he understood. The Frenchman needed his help for digging, and since they didn't bring a ladder, he would be helping. Getting up to his feet, a rather difficult thing to do due to the brunette's weight, he needed to mentally kick himself in the nuts for being so stupid and… perverted. He couldn't believe that the day when he _regretted _ being the greatest pervert that ever breathed in the universe, the day when he would want to kick himself, had come. Fighting to keep his balance and dig, the Mole muttered curses in more than two languages, Kenny observed. So he placed a hand on the brunette's knee to keep him steady and the other one on the wall to keep himself steady. Now, the work went faster, because the dirt fell on them at a much higher rate.

Soon, he heard the Mole's gruff voice:

"Stay steady." The brunette placed his feet on the other's shoulders and lifted himself out from the hole he had dug. " Zhrow me ze backpack and ze tranquilizer."

The blonde did as told and waited a few seconds, only to realize that silence fell over him: that fucking bitch had left him there!

He couldn't risk yelling, he could blow up the cover, even though the motherfucker deserved it. Anxious, he started pacing around the place, scratching his chin and stressing out. He couldn't climb and he couldn't go back, he had no idea how. He would die of hunger and thirst and then he would come back here, only to die again. The mere thought made him shudder. He should have known, he should have thought that… that the bitch played with him, he scowled as he heard a deep chuckle from above and a rope hung from the hole. He went and grabbed the end of the rope, only to be pulled with an amazing force to the surface. Panting and glaring at the Mole, Kenny tried to restrain himself from strangling him.

"Don't look at me like zhat, you should 'ave known eet was coming! We 'ave something zo finish now, come."

Kenny noticed his surroundings: they weren't in the basement, where they should have been. They were in a garden, behind some small bushes. Peeking over, he noticed a big residence, probably the mansion where they had to take those… whatever they were. Getting up, he followed the Frenchman, which was now on his elbows towards the house. He had to admit, the darkness was a great advantage 'cause they couldn't be seen without a great effort and he doubted that anyone would gaze intently over the front lawn of their house at five in the morning, even if they were wealthy, dangerous people. All the people woke up nearly blind in the morning, usually stumbling to the bathroom like zombies and/or groaning nonsense until they were given a coup of coffee.

His eyes went insanely wide and the hairs on his back head rose up when he felt something nudging on his leg.

"Mole" he managed whispering, his voice cracked. He earned an annoyed growl, as expected, so he tried again, this time in an urgent tone. "Mole!"

"What?"

"I felt something."

"No sheet" he turned his head to send a nasty look over his shoulder and replied "And what ees that?"

"I'm serious." He took a glance back and noticed a golden, puffy, small dog starring at them, with it's head tilt and it's tail slightly moving from side to side. "It's a dog."

The words caught Christophe's attention, who turned his head eith a furious jerk. The blonde's eyes widened again when he saw that his team mate reached for his pistol, so he thought quickly: if he let him, the adorable puppy would die from a bullet between it's gorgeous black eyes, but if he stopped the crazy mercenary, he would die. A toe curling image of the little creature flashed through his mind and he decided. Making a big leap, he covered the European's body with his own, straddling him.

"No, no no, Mole, listen to me!" he spoke urgently, in a hushed tone."If you shoot it, you will destroy our cover! It's more important than a dog, right?"

With a quick movement, he turned, shoved Kenny to the ground and pressed his gun to his throat.

"Don't fucking do zat again! Eet's a fucking guard dog! Zat will ruin our cover, not me shooting eet!"

"It's not a guard dog, you idiot!" The blonde couldn't help but roll his eyes, forgetting about his compromising situation. His courage apparently amused the French, who grinned and leaned closer to the blonde, moving the gun to his temple and adding a little pressure.

"Tu est si idiot! I zhought I told you zat we – you – can't afford zo care!" Throwing a glance over his shoulder to see the puppy, which still shook it's tail with a curious look, the Mole added: "And not even for ze cutest piece of sheet in ze world, you don't seet on me, oui?"

Kenny nodded bored and Christophe got to his feet, heading to the mansion's wall. When the blonde stood next to him, he spoke:

"We will enter zhrough ze servants' door, zhere" he said pointing to their right. "Come."

The door was unlocked, making them both tense. This was not good. It was too easy and nothing was ever this easy. Mole frowned and peeked inside. No one. Motioning to Kenny to follow, he entered and crossed the small hall. In the kitchen was an old woman, scrubbing some furniture. As silent as a cat, the brunette went to her and knocked her down with his gun. He mentally reviewed the building's plan and, followed by his apprentice, he exited the kitchen only to enter a larger hallway with stairs that led up to the room they needed. Silent and in continuous alert, they reached to a long hallway with a lot of doors, which kind of resembled their nest. After a quick moment of thinking, Mole went to the fourth door on the right. As expected, the door was locked. Picking the lock with a thin piece of wire he took out from his pocket, it clicked and the door opened. By this moment, Kenny was impressed. Christophe's calm and his relaxed attitude clearly showed the brunette's experience. His daze was interrupted by the low whisper:

"Zere are gloves in your backpack. Put zem on and follow my lead. Search everything zat says anything zat we need. "

Doing as told, faster than he thought he was able, he saw that Christophe was already looking under every painting on the wall, so he went to the desk in the middle of the room and started rummaging through it, Mole joining soon after. Not half a minute later, papers were stuffed in the backpack and they were hurriedly heading out. Before exiting the office, a huge, bulky man opened the door, followed quickly by others like him. Christophe and Kenny looked a each other and they silently agreed that it had been an ambush and they fell right into it. A stupid grin was plastered on the man's ugly face as he spoke:

"You didn't think it would be that easy, now did you?" His voice sounded like it came from a broken barrel and his yellow teeth showed when words came out, making Kenny sick. He was surprised that, at that moment, he remembered one of Gregory's favorite lessons: always look at the details. They were six, all ugly and bulky. The blonde couldn't help but hope that, with those faces, the guards were anything but intelligent. The all carried unconventional weapons, like knives, wooden bats, even ninja swords. But none of them seemed to carry a gun and with that, Kenny was convinced that they were as stupid as rocks. He glanced at Mole who glanced back and they both nodded. In a split second, the French mercenary was no longer next to him, he heard the sound on teeth clashing powerfully and he saw the Frenchman punch the guy who spoke in the face. Without thinking, he went to his partner's side, punching and kicking the other men that attacked them. Once of twice, strong fists connected with his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs for a few seconds, but he clenched his jaw and fought back just as forceful. The fight only lasted a few minutes. Mole knocking out the most of them. The guy moved a lot faster that Kenny thought it was humanly possible. Panting heavily, the blonde looked at Christophe who barely broke a sweat. From downstairs, he heard the sound of steps padding heavily.

"It sounds like an army."

"Eet eez." Mole closed the door, locked it and blocked it with a chair. "We don't have a chance, we must go."

"Mole" Kenny's voice came after a moment which the brunette used to get to the window."_You _must go. I have a plan."

The French turned around after opening the window and frowned slightly. A loud bang came from the door, as the people outside tried to break in. Kenny threw the backpack to Christophe, who caught it, and spoke softly:

"Take it and get the hell out of here. I will hold them."

"Eet eez not ze time for being a hero, fucking idiot!" the brunette snarled.

"Listen to me," Ken continued just as calm as before " I can die, it's not a big deal. I will come back. Think about the mission."

"Bien" he said after a moment of thinking "take ze shotgun. Au revoir." He threw the weapon at the blonde, it landing on the floor, and he climbed out the window with expert moves. The voice of his mate stopped him.

" The puppy. Take it."

"I'm not taking the fucking dog."

"I'm gonna die, dude! Think of it as a last wish!"

"You will come back."

"You better run now" Kenny warned as the door cracked a little. He winked at the mercenary, picked up the shot gun, loaded it and turned to the door to wait. Christophe muttered ' blackmailing muzzerfucker' and climbed down the wall. From the room he just left, he heard the shotgun doing it's job and, by the time his feet touched the ground, the ammunition was gone. He heard the pistol going off as he ran to the hole he dug. The puppy followed him, happily moving it's tail from side to side. Mole groaned and dropped the dog into the hole along with the backpack, not caring if it got hurt at the impact, then hurried back to the house to help his apprentice, shovel grasped tightly in his hand. He knew that he wasn't supposed to care, but his heart clenched when he thought about all the pain Kenny felt right now. No shooting was heard and he knew that the blonde ran out of bullets. His heart wouldn't let him to stay indifferent.

In the office they'd just broke in, Kenny fell to the floor, blood rushing out his mouth, as the men kicked him with their feet. He heard bones cracking and pain shot through his entire body. The attempt to curl in a ball proved futile, so he waited for death to come. Before closing his eyes, he saw Mole standing at the door. Then, he thankfully blacked out.


	11. I'm not confused about my sexuality

**Sorry it took so long… it's just that I've been working on a later chapter and got caught in it… yea, on with the show… I must apologize again for everything that I must: if th characters are out of character, if I'm missing important details, if it's moving too fast. Anyway, I really hope someone will complain at a certain point, it would really help me in the future. **

**Read, enjoy and review.**

When Mole stormed into the hallway, he expected to see Kenny's limp body thorn in pieces, his face unrecognizable, distorted, swollen, covered in bruises and blood. He clenched his fist around the shovel's handle as he felt his heart beating faster with every step he took, readying himself for what he was about to see: a broken blonde. A small trail of blood stained the carpet in front of the study, it's familiar dark shade surprising Christophe for the first time in his life. He was as familiar with blood as anyone would be with eating, but the trail just kept growing, soaking the once gray carpet in a crimson shade. His eyes grew a little wider when his eyes finally met what he wanted to see. Sure, Kenny laid limply on the floor and his fetal position showed his pain, but the expression of his face threw Mole off the hook. The motherfucker had a weird smug smile plastered on his face, his blurred eyes glowing in a way that seemed impossible for a dying person. Christophe forgot for a second where he stood, but he shook his head, came back to reality and finally acknowledged the dead bodies and the guys who still hit the blonde's now lifeless form. Mechanically, he grasped the handle tighter, until his knuckles turned white, and went on a killing spree. The sound of metal crushing bones and the feel of flesh ripping under the high pressure of the fatal gardening tool was enough to feed his revenge. The thought of someone sacrificing themselves for him was something he couldn't be comfortable with, he shouldn't be in debt for anyone and Kenny had already saved his butt for the second time in his – well, their- life.

Once he was the only one still standing, he took a few seconds to calm his somehow ragged breath and look around. The room was a mess, not that he cared, but he had to admit, it was. And he was pretty damn proud of that fact. Broken furniture, shattered papers and large puddles of blood laid aimlessly on the floor, along with the dead bodies and Kenny's already cooling one. The sight of the blonde made him frown. He didn't know how things worked with the teen's dying and rising again, but he didn't like the thought of his decomposed body laying wherever he died. So, putting the shovel back in the sheath on his back where it belonged, he bent down, picked up the lifeless body and threw it over his shoulder like it was a bag of potatoes. If the blonde would wake up with another bruise, he wouldn't care less. Mole carefully took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, while making his way out of the room and down the hall.

At the hole to the sewers that he'd dug, he took a longer drag from his cancer stick and thought for a few seconds that he should probably be more careful with handling the body. Shrugging, the brunette dropped the body to the floor and into the hole. Kenny fell with a loud thump, on top of the backpack, followed quickly by Christophe. Lighting a cigarette and taking his load, the body and the backpack, and followed by a wiggling dog, he started to make his way out of the shithole. Literally.

Kenny's eyelids trembled and he opened his eyes slowly. It was dark. He groaned and moved his arm to see if it was usable. It was. He flexed his fingers, starring around, trying to make up the most of it. Then he realized, he was in his room. At home. He got half up, sitting on his elbows. He saw the nightstand, the TV, the drawer, felt the hard mattress... everything was in place. Even some dirty clothes laid on the floor, just where he left them.

Usually, when he got back from the dead, he found himself at the morgue or the cemetery or in the same place where he died. He didn't remember dying in his room. But he remembered that look in those green eyes. It was something he couldn't label. So Kenny got up from the bed and walked carefully to the closed door, staggering a little due to the dizziness he felt. He stretched his arm to reach the knob when the said knob turned and the door opened to reveal a pale, tired Christophe. The brunette's eyes shot open when seeing the blonde, but quickly collected himself to speak:

"I thought you were dead for good."

"Well, I'm as alive as ever."

"I made you something to eat." Chris said softly, as if ashamed of it. Kenny smiled gently and took a step closer to the mercenary.

"Thanks" another step forward "but I'm not hungry." Then, he threw his arms around the brunette and hugged him as if his life depended on it. He needed to feel the warmth of a body in order to stay sane. Dying was not as easy as people thought it was. The pain of the wounds that killed him, the moments of pure agony before his soul left his body, falling all the way down to hell, those were horrible. Sure, Satan and he were friends, due to the devil's emotional breakdowns and Kenny comforting him, but, after all the years, he wasn't used to the damned souls' screaming, to the demons born from the heart of the evil, the rage in their eyes, the agony. He shut his eyes tight, deeply wishing that Mole wasn't there when he died, that he didn't look at him so worried. Dying alone was easy, it didn't make him regret anything. He let out a shaky breath and tightened his grip. The French remained stiff. The hug only lasted a few seconds, but felt like a whole lot more. When he drew back, the Mole put a hand on the back of his head to stop him, only inches away from his own. He hugged the blond again tightly, burying his face in his shoulder. A visible shudder cursed through Kenny's body as Christophe's breath tickled the skin on his neck, making goose bumps appear on the sensitive area.

"You know" the French's voice sounded muffled as he spoke " I didn't really think zat you will come back again."

"I'm here now, right? And I don't think I want to leave again." The sentence flew out of Kenny's mouth straight from the heart, before he could filter the words and stop them. Still, when the embrace only tightened and the brunette circled his waist with his arms, he didn't regret a word from it. He couldn't stop himself from being disappointed when, slowly, Christophe let him go. He moved his head as the brunette looked him in the eye and rested his forehead against the other's, cupping his cheek with his hand. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of the French's breath caressing his face. He felt that warm breath closer and he opened his eyes. In the same moment, the mercenary's lips crashed on his in an urgent, demanding kiss. Kenny couldn't stop himself from smiling as he returned the kiss as eagerly. It wasn't the Mole's chapped, full lips that drove him insane nor the scent of dirt, cigarettes and faintly of coffee, it was the taste, a mix of something that made it so typical for the French. The terrors of hell and the memories that hurt him faded away.

Christophe backed away and looked at the panting blonde through half-lidded eyes, smiling wickedly.

"Kenny" he started " I need zo tell you zat you smell like sheet."

Laughter erupted from them and Kenny pushed the brunette slowly, flipping him off and walking to the bathroom. Mole smirked when he heard the shower running. Sex in the shower would be so clichéd, but not less fun. Plus, he was curious about the blonde's bruises and scars. So, with a vicious grin plastered on his face, he entered the bathroom and, while taking his shirt off, he heard from behind the curtain:

"Will you pay me?"

"Pay you for w'at?"

"For letting you fuck me."

Christophe couldn't believe his ears. He knew Kenny was a man whore, one of the most fucked up kids that ever lived, but this, he didn't expect. He made a mental note to kick Gregory in the nuts next time he said 'expect the unexpected'. He shrugged and said:

"I will. But I top." Then, he closed the door.

From outside, certain _noises _could be heard.

**Before judging, this is not what it seems. Seriously, don't expect love, daisies and sunshine, because there won't be any. I was working on this chapter and something popped in my mind. **

**I hate clichés, I really really really do. And I promised myself that cliché is something that I won't write. **

**About the sex scene… yea, I'll write some 'graphic' stuff at a certain point. But not now. I still need to learn about this kind of stuff.**

**All in all, I hope you liked this little piece of work. 'Cause, it's work, after all. Take care of yourselves and have a nice day/night.**

**~ALLYed**


	12. I wish I didn't hope

**I'm here again, with some new stuff for the old stuff.**

**This is in the loving memory of my puppy, Sam, who died these days. I really hope that all dogs go to heaven. He was the most adorable, golden, black-doey-eyed fuzz ball ever! **

**I think there'll be 1 or 2 more chapters until the end. For those who read it, pray God I'll finish it before school starts. :D I won't have time after school starts. Right. Get ready to enter my fucked up mind, for real this time. Read, enjoy and review! Yours truly,**

**~ALLYed**

People say that stories usually start with a song, a smile, a look or a soft touch. Here, it's not about a love story. No. It can't be about a love story. Not this time. Sure, everyone loves love stories, because they give them warm and fuzzy feelings in their bellies and toe curling happy endings. There won't be such things during his life. No no no no… Kenny sighed. He couldn't believe what he had gotten himself into this time. Sighing again, he wondered if Mole forgot him, for good this time.

It had been nearly a year since the first time he descended into the hive, first time when he saw his old classmates and soon-to-be friends. Where did all this time go? And when did everything happen?

He still remembered every detail of the first mission. The planning, the sewers, the searching an the killing. Since then, every mission went just the same, almost, minus the dog. Wendy had been thrilled when she saw the puppy. The usually collected and serious brunette snatched it from Kenny's arms, yelling 'Sammy!', giving the fuzz ball a bone-breaking hug. The dog, Sam apparently, had squeaked, but wiggled it's tail nonetheless. They've been inseparable since then and Kenny couldn't help but wish that he was a dog, he'd never seen anything that pampered. Heck, the dog even _smelled_ better than he did. Aside from that, every mission was the same. Almost. They never failed to accomplish whatever they had to do, no matter the type of job. Escorting, stealing, breaking, shooting and killing, they did it all. His main job was to help with whatever, then play the human shield and ask nothing more. The first few times, he offered to die for the sake of the mission, but after that, it became a routine. The last part of the chore, reporting to the employer and bringing his dead body home, was up to Christophe. He did it every time. And every time, he fucked the blonde senseless. Kenny enjoyed every single moment of it, not to mention that the Frenchman paid him after, but he also made him scream in pleasure and in French. And he didn't even know French.

Being used was something he was accustomed, to the point where he really didn't care. What he didn't understand was why in the world would he start to like his team mate more than he probably should. Mole never showed any kind of affection, just tolerance. They laughed, drank, sometimes ate and worked together, they even flirted, but that was it. Kenny was no fool. He didn't expect anything, he knew better than to expect something from a mercenary who learned how to hide his emotions. But damn, it was the last argument that made his doubt and hope at the same time. He hoped that Christophe hid whatever he felt for him, and doubted that the mercenary was heartless. Yea, excellent point.

He groaned and wanted to rub his eyes, but he could. Oh yes, he was held hostage. The mission they were currently working at went perfect. Especially the part were he was supposed to get shot and caught, letting Mole escape with the information they needed. He now sat in a wooden chair in the middle of a room that looked like a prison cell, minus the bars, in semi-darkness, arms and legs tied. He simulated trying to escape, by jerking his arms around. Bad move. Now, the rope rubbed into his wrists, making them sore. He had gotten shot in the left leg and, fortunately, the bullet just scratched the skin and went through. Still, the gash bled severely. Where the fuck was Mole? He perked his ears, as he heard the sound of muffled steps. It wasn't Mole. He walked faster, and his steps were regular. This was one of the bad boys, coming to beat the crap out of him again. The door opened and one of the cops entered. Did Kenny forgot to mention that the cops got him? Yea… This guy was around forty and had that classic policeman-face. Square chin, short blonde hair, blue eyes, well-built and, from what Kenny has learned, he was playing the bad cop.

"Feel like talking now, honey?" the policeman asked sweetly, pacing around calmly.

"Well, thank you, sugar, but no." came Kenny's reply, voice dripping with sarcasm. A hard punch in the nose made Kenny cringe. Still, he smiled and looked at the law-man smugly, ignoring the pain and the taste of blood in his mouth. Another set of hits came, but the tied blonde kept glaring, only intensifying the rain of kicks. The cop grabbed him by the collar of the black jacket he was wearing with one hands and hit him with the other, hissing:

"You piece of shit, I could kill you and no one will ever know. And you know why? Because nobody cares!"

"Ah, c'mon!" Kenny spit some blood to his side, he didn't want to be rude " is this your best shot? I could teach you a lot about brain fuck! Sign up for my classes, hm?"

"Will you make me a discount?"

Another hard punch in the chest knocked Kenny's air out of his lungs. The policeman continued hissing:

"No, killing you would make no point, not to a freak like you. It's too easy, too simple. I will keep you alive, only to kill you slowly."

"Promises, I heard these before" Kenny snorted.

"I will rip you apart, piece by piece" continued the threatening.

"You are getting better already, I'm scared, really."

"I will hunt down and kill every person you care about."

"You know what, let go of my jacket, you're rumpling it!" the blonde grinned. "You're so lame I can't believe it! Where did you get your lines from? What stupid cop movie?"

The cop got angry, Kenny could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the air, so he braced himself for another set of hits. Instead, a phone went off, with a barking-dog ringtone. Kenny looked up at the policeman and mouthed 'fag', smirking, as he went outside to talk. Moments later, he was back.

"Listen smart boy, as much as I'd love you beat you to death, someone else is going to do it." The blue-eyed cop punched him in the jaw, harder than any other time, before turning to go.

"Ha, I knew it! You're too much of a pussy to do it yourself!" As the cop exited the room and closed the door, the blond continued, yelling:

"I bet you still live with your mother! Does she make you wear home made sweaters? Awww, c'mon, sweetie pie, we just started to know each other! Call me!"

The door opened again, to reveal a smirking Mole.

"Damn, you got yourself a mouth!"

"Fuck you, it took you long enough! I almost…" Kenny shut up immediately, as Mole made him the universal sign to shush.

"I'm 'ere zo finish ze job!"

Kenny's eyes got wider, as he realized. Suddenly, all the confidence left him. Christophe saw it and he leaned closer, to cup the blonde's swollen and bruised check with his gloved hand.

"Relax, Kenny. Eet's ze only way zo get you out of 'ere. I will take care of you. Don't I always?"

Kenny sighed and looked down. Thousands of questions were spinning wildly in his head, but he knew that they wouldn't be answered if spoken out loud. Plus, Mole has called him by his name and it meant he was serious and that he was, as always, right. He shut his eyes tight and waited. Mole simply aimed the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger, killing Kenny.

Christophe put his weapon back to it's sheath and lit a cigarette. Soon after, he took out a knife and begun to cut the ropes. After a short checking of the blonde's wounds, he couldn't help but admire his strength. He had heard the yelling of his blue-eyes companion before entering the room and he couldn't help but chuckle. He looked horrible, beaten to a plump, a few ribs broken, maybe some other bones, enormous pain and he could still laugh and be sarcastic. Yes, Christophe had a lot of respect for the blonde. Throwing the lips body over his shoulder, he exited the room and went to the exit.

"Hey" came a voice from behind him " wait up." Turning around, Mole saw the cop that he called and he couldn't help but be disgusted.

"Wow, you finished him fast!"

"Well, I have important things to do!" the Frenchman responded slightly irked, accent completely hidden. "I'll get rid of the body."

"Yea you do that."

Mole proceeded to walk. Outside, he threw the corpse on the back seat of the truck he used now and drove back to Kenny's house. He made a mental note to set the truck on fire later as he saw Kenny's blood smearing on the seat.

When Kenny woke up, he was laying on his bed, as usual. Through the thick curtains entered a strong light. Getting off the bed, he pulled them and opened the window. Strong light and a cloudless sky announced an unusually warm day for South Park. The blond sighed contently, feeling very good. His stay in Hell had been better this time, as Satan invited him to dinner with some of his friends. The smell of food entered his nostrils and his stomach grumbled. Yes, the Frenchman cooked from time to time. And damn, he could cook! Quickly searching for new clothes in the drawers, he sprinted to the bathroom for a quick shower. This day could be a perfect one, the first in a very long time, and nothing, _nothing _could ruin it.

Descending the stairs, happily humming a song, he went straight to the kitchen, but before entering, he saw a foreign coat thrown on the couch. Carefully entering the kitchen, his breath caught in his throat painfully, when he saw something he didn't expect to see. Christophe had someone pinned against the wall, held their arms above their head and ravaged their mouth and, by the sounds of it, they both enjoyed. Their heads angle changed and the blonde caught a glimpse of the other person. Gregory. Kenny made a very good impression of a fish on the shore, trying to breathe, opening and closing his mouth. He felt something in his chest but ignored it, he knew what it was, but he didn't want to feel it. Looking around, he saw a plate with steaming food on the table. Trying to keep his look down and not to make any noise, he reached out and got the food and the fork next to it and went to the couch to eat. He knew they heard him, they were trained professionals, they just didn't care. And they had no reason to, because it wasn't like he felt _betrayed _or anything. Slumping on the couch, he placed the plate next to him and looked around for the remote control, trying his best not to think about anything.

He had spent his life living up high, without second thoughts, without any sort of regret. Now, he felt bad, he felt angry, down… betrayed. His mind screamed at him, scolding him, yelling obscenities of all kind. The loudest, most itching sentence was: 'you are too stupid for your own good.' And he knew it.

" At least I won't have to shower so much anymore." It came out as a whisper, bitterly, before he started eating. The food was good, and he wasn't one to mope around.

"_Don't you get eet, eet can always be worse." _He never clung to these words as desperately as he did now.


	13. Finally, we realize

What a wonderful day! How particularly bright were the sun rays! Fresh, green smocks of grass shone here and there in the melting snow, people passing on the streets smiling and saying 'hi' to each other Even the cheerful chirping of birds could be heard. A perfectly clichéd perfect day!

Smoking on the front porch of his house, leaning casually against the house wall, Kenny grumpily watched the somehow mocking scenery in front of him. He shouldn't be upset, just that he couldn't help it. Inhaling smoke again, he sighed. Why would he let himself go down? He had no real reason and damn, he was no teenage girl to sulk over every minor detail of his life! Yeah! Throwing the cigarette butt as far as he could, he went inside, snatched the car keys from the living room table and headed to the car. The Hummer was parked in the back of his house and, next to it, Gregory's greenish Hybrid. It was so like the British to own a car like everybody else's. After a moment of thinking, the blue-eyed blonde decided that there was no European blood in his veins, and, with a wide grin, he jumped in the massive Hummer. The engine came alive and Kenny couldn't help but feel just as alive. Satisfied. Happy. Content. Those were feeling spinning in his body, warming him. But the most important thing was the place he was heading now. Nowhere. Stepping on the acceleration pedal, he turned and left, the same grin plastered on his face.

He drove aimlessly for a few hours, on a seemingly deserted highway, smoking and listening to loud music. The mp3 player and the sound system were his touch to the car, as he and Mole would travel in it pretty often. The French didn't say anything, just rolled his eyes. Kenny simply flipped him off and pressed the play button. Now, 'Eye of the tiger' blasted through the speakers, as Kenny sang along loudly and poorly. The car-monster was pushed to it's maximum speed and the blonde was in a surprisingly good mood. Sensing the 'alone' feeling coming, he quickly turned the wheel and sped up to the hive. He missed Wendy and the others. And he needed to get a sip of alcohol. Just a sip.

A few hours later, he was laughing hysterically with Token, Tweek and Wendy. Token, as the typical black guy that he was, just finished telling them a hilarious story about too much alcohol and some teenagers going to see a movie, as their were all slouched on the couch in the 'living room'.

"And then, he puked all over the people sitting in front of him. It was like harvest day with alien slime!"

Laughing even harder, if possible, Tweek bend over and held his stomach, tears welling in his eyes. He had a high pitched type of laughing, the funny kind.

"My-my stomach! Ah, it hurts!" he said between gasps for air.

"Token, dude, I can't believe you! Stop it!" Kenny added, trying to calm down. Wendy just got up to bring some beers, after managing to stop herself from panting.

"No, dude, it's a real story! I think there was some pot involved or somethin'!

"Pot's not the only thing that makes you act stupid!" Tweek commented, sipping on his fresh opened beer.

"Yes, it is!" came the black's reply.

"No, it's not!"

"Ah, here we go again!" Wendy stated, exasperated. "If I hear another argument between you two, I swear I'll go insane! Token, go check the Hummer and repair it if something's wrong. And Tweek, go make yourself some coffee or something!"

"You" Token said, while getting up and pointing at the girl, "are no fun."

"Yes, she is." Replied a following twitching blonde.

"No, she's not."

As they both exited the room, continuing their childish argument on the hallway, Wendy flopped on the couch, huffing.

"They're like kids sometimes."

"Yea…"

"Ken", she said after turning to the blonde next to him, "what happened?"

"What, are you psychic now too?" Kenny joked, taking a large gulp.

"Look, Ken, you never came back after a mission alone. You never went straight for the beer. And, when something is bothering you, you bite your lip. What did he do?"

"Ah, damn you and your talent…" he replied, resigning. Pausing, he looked down. "I never really expected anything. But I hoped, deep inside, I hoped that he would feel something. He is always so gentle and he cares about me. I know it, I can see it in his eyes, even though he hides it."

"Ken…" her voice came as a whisper."Why are you doing this to yourself? You know that's the world we live in. This is not the place for hoping or wishing. You know it."

Instead of a reply, he put his head on her lap and let out a deep sigh. Curling in a ball, he closed his eyes as she started humming a song.

"It's going to be okay." She said, caressing his wild hair.

"I know. But, something bothers me. Did you know that he and Gregory fucked?"

Wendy stopped suddenly, shocked.

"I guess you didn't" he chuckled. "I found them in my kitchen this morning. Pretty funny if you ask me. The situation, I mean."

The girl listened to his alcohol induced babbling, thinking, trying to make a connection. It didn't make any sense. There was nothing going on between the British blonde and Mole. She would know. She always knew. Gregory was very good at hiding his emotions, but Wendy was better at seeing beneath his masks. Something in this story didn't fit. She had to talk to the boys, both of them, as soon as they came back. Brain-fucking team mates was something she couldn't tolerate. Sighing again, she looked down at the sleepy blond and kept humming a soothing song, caressing the silky hair. Poor Kenny, he wasn't the only heartbroken. She still felt nauseous whenever she thought about the day when Stan left her alone to deal with _the problem._ Their _problem._

The sound of a door opening made her snap. Looking up, she saw a shock of brown hair, as Christophe retreated from the room. Moving Kenny's head and gently laying it on the couch, she hurried after her team mate.

"Chris, wait."

Turning around lazily, he answered casually: "What eez eet?"

"Why are doing this? Stop playing stupid, you know what I'm talking about. And Kenny, of all people!"

"I don't understand what eez eet that you want from me."

Huffing, she crossed her arms and spoke, calmly: "Ok, you're right, I should tell you. Here it is: Kenny saw you and Gregory and it fucked up his brain. We, you need him focused, determined to finish the jobs, even if he'll die in the process of saving your ass. And when he comes back to life, he needs something to hang on to. He chose you to be his support."

" 'e knows 'e shouldn't." replied Mole bluntly. " 'is mistake, 'is problem. Period."

He turned to leave, but she gripped him tightly by his forearm and hissed, in a dangerously low tone.

"What if he dies and never comes back. Will you be able to handle the loneliness or replace his warmth? Think about it, you selfish bastard."

With that, she spun around and walked back to the room where Kenny slept, completely unaware of the fact that people talked about him. Christophe hesitated for a second, then he went to his bedroom, no emotion on his face. He listened to the muffled sound of his footsteps on the carpeted floor, as he searched his pockets for something to light the cigarette already hanging from his lips. The small flame from the lighter lit his face and his surroundings for a small second, then it was gone, leaving the red-orange, smoking tip of the cigarette behind. Stretching a hand to the door knob, he thought about Sam, the dog. Not knowing why, the dark chocolate eyes of the puppy haunted his memory, or rather, the affection they showed towards Kenny, who fed him and played with him whenever he had the occasion. Entering his dark room, a heavy smell of smoke filled his nostrils. Home sweet home, he thought, remembering about Kenny and his pet, scenes of them playing or sleeping together. That one time when he found them slouched on the couch, the blond on his belly and the dog next to him, Sam lifted his head to look at him, then placed it's head on Kenny's back, in a protective way. He couldn't help but feel slightly jealous on the dog. Lucky bastard. It needed so little to be happy. If only things were easier…

Mole sighed as he laid on his back, with his hands under his head. He felt alone, but he was alright, it wasn't the first time. Actually, it was a constant in his life, but sometimes, it was stronger, and he hated it. He closed his eyes, breathed in the strong scent of cigarettes lingering like a veil of mist in his room and relaxed. The clear blue eyes of Kenny kept coming in his mind, but that was ok as well. It often happened. Especially in those nights when the blonde would lay on his bed, dead, when Christophe couldn't wait for him to come back to life.

Kenny was unique, but amazingly stupid. If he thought that Gregory was in any way better than him, he was so wrong. Gregory didn't smell like the ocean. Gregory didn't laugh, didn't make jokes, didn't look at him _that _way. Gregory is not Kenny. But he did have a problem in containing himself from stalking Mole, following his every move, crave desperately for his attention. When the French found the blonde European in his, their kitchen, he almost wanted to kill him. Instead, they ended up kissing and groping each other. They stopped when Mole heard the Hummer start, then go. He looked out the window, then back to the panting blond in his arms and felt disgust. He sighed again, knowing that he screwed up Kenny again and, after what Wendy said, there was no doubt.

Drifting off to sleep, he heard footsteps on the hall, that stopped next to his door, then continued, walking away. Getting up quickly, he ran to the door, and, opening it, he looked only to see Kenny's close. Damn, he missed that motherfucker. So he went to him.

Once inside the blond's room, he saw him curled into a ball, facing the wall, with his hands placed on his sides, like he was hugging himself. Step by step, Christophe approached him and leaned down to touch his shoulder. Slowly, Kenny turned and, after he recognized him, he smiled sleepily, stretching an arm to gently caress the brunette's rough cheek. Mole closed his eyes and slipped under the covers, hugging the creature next to him. No words were said. Who needed them? Words could not express anything, but, as they intertwined they fingers together and the blond buried his head in his lover's chest, they both knew and accepted, finally, that they had something precious.

I am very sorry for the long wait, but, in my defense, I say that school work almost killed me. Hope you like, more will come, I promise.

~ALLYed


End file.
